


City Lights

by PandaMega



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji, Fighting Kink, Jealousy, Long, M/M, Mutual Pining, Organized Crime, Pining Vinsmoke Sanji, Romance, Slow Burn, ZoSan - Freeform, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaMega/pseuds/PandaMega
Summary: AU. Long fic. ZoSan. Zoro makes the big move back to New York to find that there's a new member in the crew. Their lives are quickly entangled and Zoro and Sanji struggle to come to terms with their feelings for each other as they navigate a world of crime, corporate espionage, and underground politics. [Sexual content, mild violence, jealousy, mutual pining]





	1. Same city, new face

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not actually from New York... so... if this sounds like it's written by a country bumpkin whos never seen the city... uhhhh.... send help

He was a vision.

An out-of-place, extremely lost, and inexplicably handsome vision.

Sanji noticed him first on the subway that morning. The five AM train was usually quite empty so he noticed the man instantly. His face was stern, focused, and he was built like an MMA fighter or maybe even a body-builder. The green hair was unique, and his clothing looked like it was right out of some samurai movie. Now Sanji had seen his fair share of odd characters on the New York subway, but this man was in a league of his own. The icing on the cake was definitely the swords. Not one, but three, lay horizontally across his lap. Sanji wasn’t even sure it was legal to carry swords on the subway, unless they were some fake costume prop, though Sanji didn’t quite believe this was the case. The idea of this man being some fake-sword toting comic nerd on his way to a convention at 5 in the morning was honestly hilarious and completely improbable. Nerd or not, The man was handsome as hell. The whole look he had going on was completely idiosyncratic but for some reason, there on the quiet morning train, it worked.

Sanji played it cool, admired the strange man from afar, and stepped off at his stop without so much as a backward glance. But that wouldn’t be the last Sanji saw of the man. When he boarded the train again a few hours later, arms heavy with grocery bags, the mysterious, out of place character was there again. Sanji thought that perhaps he had boarded the wrong train, but this wasn’t the same train he had taken that morning, they were headed back in the opposite direction.

Sanji liked to take an early train out to the ethnic markets that opened up on side streets early in the mornings. Some of the best produce, exotic imports, and unusual flavors were to be found for unbelievable prices, and Sanji liked to incorporate these items into his experimental dishes for both his personal and professional menu. Today he met an wonderfully sweet Japanese woman selling her homemade tsukemono - pickles. The best pickles are always handmade, and she had quite a variety of pickled products, from sweet to salty, to savory. He had to buy a bit of each. As a result, he carried with him the smell of fermented foods as he began his commute to the restaurant. Granted it wasn’t as bad as the odor that followed him after his trips to the fish market. As he sat on the train with his many bags and smelling of fruit and pickles he studied the man again, sitting as he was on the earlier train, with his brows furrowed even deeper than before.

“What?”

And Sanji was caught staring. The man’s voice was gruff, stern, like a low rumble. Sanji replied honestly, “You just look lost.”

The man frowned, “I’m not.” It was very unconvincing.

Sanji smirked and shrugged, “if you say so.” He thought twice about interacting any further with the man - the attractive, sword-wielding man. Sanji, was currently overburdened with bags of food and smelling of pickles. It just wasn’t a good look. And so he got off at his stop and carried on his way to work, pondering to himself. The stranger had seemed like the kind of guy Sanji would love to hate. If they had to interact in real life they’d probably constantly be at each other’s throats.

When he reached his restaurant, The Baratie, he set down his bags to unlock the doors. His kitchen crew would arrive an hour later to prep for lunch reservations, and he would test out promising new recipes in the mean time.

The third time Sanji ran into the man no longer felt like coincidence.

Sanji had stepped out the back door for a smoke break, as he usually did, with a small dish of food scraps that he would offer a local cat that came around most days. When he opened the door he was startled to find the man from the subway crouched on the back steps of the restaurant with his many swords in his lap and the same disgruntled look on his face as he pet the cat who had sure enough come around. The man looked up at him, and Sanji met his eyes with surprise, then smirked, “not lost, right?”

Zoro’s face went from startled to indignant, replying an elegant “Fuck off”

Sanji laughed as the man drew his lips into a line that seemed a confused attempt at a forced frown, and just, sat there looking entirely out of place, with his green hair, and the swords, and the cat, in this back alley. Sanji set down the dish he was holding and the cat promptly left the man’s side to inspect the food.

Sanji pet the cat and spoke in a sweet voice, “Bet you haven’t eaten all day,” then chanced a glance at the strange man. The man just kept frowning but his stomach growled loudly as the cat ate her snacks. The chef smiled to himself, now this was his area of expertise.

Sanji went back inside and threw together a plate of food, then went back out to find the frowning man with the furrowed brows studying the cat’s meal with comical intensity. It was laughable but also mildly distressing, as Sanji was no stranger to hunger.

“Here” He said, shoving the plate of food in the mans face.

The man looked up at him with an expression that spoke disbelief, the crease between his brow had lifted, “Really?” His voice was warm and hopeful and it was enough to plunge Sanjis heart into chaos.

“Just don’t waste any” Sanji said, doing his best to play it cool as he handed off the food, He leaned against the door and lit a cigarette, glancing down at the stranger who had dug in without hesitation. They remained in relative silence for a time until Sanji spoke, “So you’re new to the city?”

The man grunted without pausing though his food. He didn’t seem the type for small talk, which was fine. When he finished his food he muttered a thank you.

“Do you need more?” Sanji was ever generous to the hungry.

The man thought for a second before replying “No, I should be going..” It seemed he was also playing it cool.

Sanji stopped himself from saying anything that would betray his genuine interest and concern for the lost and hungry and fatally handsome man, and instead said “alright” in a dismissive voice and put out his cigarette.

“Thanks, for the food.” the man said, standing up. He had a physically imposing presence that was all too exciting, all muscle and tanned skin. He exuded confidence and intention, and calm, it left Sanji’s head swimming.

Sanji stepped back into the restaurant like he was returning to something very important, which he was, and when he closed the door behind him he leaned back into it, dropped the cool guy facade, and exhaled heavily to revel in “Damn he was fine as hell!!!!” before getting back to work. He reprimanded himself for not at least getting the man’s name. Sure he lived in a big, exciting city, but it wasn’t every day that he met handsome men that checked every box. Physically the man was a god, just beautiful, with stern eyes and a strong expressive brow. The man was out of place in a unique way which Sanji also found charming, and there was something about his demeanor, he wasn’t shy but he was quiet, contrasted with a strong and confident energy despite being completely at the mercy of the city. Many people in the city were talkative and put on airs, but that man seemed very grounded and sincere. Best of all, the man ate his food enthusiastically without leaving a scrap to waste. This was a very important trait. Ah, well perhaps he would see him again, like that cat that comes around.


	2. So We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost in the City, Zoro manages through sheer, desperate luck to find his way back to his crew, where he's surprised to learn that there are some new members. Alternatively, Sanji comes home to chaos!!

_‘I hate this city,’_ Zoro thought the third time he circled the same block, which was shaped more like a non-rectangular polygon, so it’s no wonder it was confusing. Looking down at the subway entrance he thought _‘never again’_ as he recalled the literal 4 hours he had spent going back and forth on the wrong subway lines. He resolved to walk everywhere from now on, which seemed like a great idea at first, but this was hour 3 of walking in this chaotic city where there were a million streets, a million people, and a million cars all going nowhere except maybe hell, if he wasn’t in fact already in hell. Thankfully, some otherworldly force was looking after him because an inexplicably generous, albeit mildly pretentious chef had taken pity on his sorry ass and fed him like a stray cat, and it was probably the best meal he’d had since he landed back in the United States, maybe even as good as the food in Japan, honestly it tasted like the best meal of his life just because he had been so hungry and distraught. The chef himself also looked like a delicious snack which probably elevated the overall satisfaction of the meal. But, of course, he had to play it cool and act like he knew where he was going instead of asking the man for directions like a reasonable human being. Of course if he had gotten a US phone like everyone suggested he’d at least be able to call his friends and ask them for directions. But Zoro, not being one to dwell on the technicals, neglected to get a phone when he arrived.

Zoro was, lost, as usual. Not that he would admit this was a common situation for him. He tried making sense of his surroundings, _store, store, food, cat, annoying teenagers, bank, hoard of new yorkers,_ etc. He couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. He crossed another random street when alarms started blaring very close to him. He jumped back on high alert and glanced around, realizing the culprit was a fire station with fire trucks charging out into the street. In that instant of realization the flashing lights were like a lightbulb in his head - I know a fireman! Neglecting to note the name of the fire station or dwell on the fact that there were many fire stations in New York City, he waltzed in believing with sheer force of will that the specific fireman he wanted would be here. Again, he doesn’t dwell on the technicals.

When he entered the station he asked aloud to no on in particular, “Where’s Ace?” which got the attention of a few people sitting at desks.

One of the men paused before laughing at the absurdity. “The fire cheif?”

“Uh… yeah.. Ace” Zoro was determined.

Realizing he was serious, the man replied, stuttering “oh well I think he’s in his office,” then thought twice about letting the strange man go upstairs himself and added, “Let me go get him.”

The man stood and walked towards a staircase in the back of the room and was gone a few moments before footsteps could be heard descending the staircase, along with a familiar voice.

“A strange man? For me?”

Zoro would never realize it, but he had exceptional luck. Within a second of seeing the green haired stranger, the fire chief let out a delightful “ZORO!” and ran towards his old friend.

“Ace!” Zoro smiled, it was a relief to finally see a friendly familiar face.

“Man look at you, you look like you’ve been through hell,” Ace laughed, “I bet you got lost and found my fire station through sheer luck.” He offered Zoro a firm pat on the shoulder at this.

“I was exploring the city.” Zoro asserted despite the fact that Ace was entirely correct.

Ace laughed at this. “Man I told you to get a phone. The city is rough, especially for someone like you!” and with that he let out a robust laugh to which Zoro could only smile sheepishly.

“Anyway, you probably want to get settled right? Let me call Luffy, he’s gonna be so excited that you made it!”

* * *

 

If Zoro expected a quiet reunion he was definitely not going to get it. Luffy was literally bouncing off the walls while Nami tried to explain to him how rent would work. Luffy owned the building, _owned_ it. The whole thing. In New York City. Nami handled all the assets and monetary dealings, of course. She was a wizard when it came to financial matters. It all went entirely over Zoro’s head and was so far beyond his interests he couldn’t be bothered with it. Nami, however, was passionate about money. Which was honestly for the best, because without her expertly navigating the financial matters, Luffy’s endeavors wouldn’t have returned even a fraction of the payoff they were seeing now.

Zoro had been brought to his new apartment, where he was told everyone would be gathering shortly. The place was spacious, with an open concept kitchen that expanded into the dining and living area. The floors were smooth hardwood which would be perfect for Zoro’s training, and the ceilings were high enough that he might even be able to swing a sword. Apparently the whole crew lived in apartments like this throughout the building. Not for free of course, Nami saw to that. Rent was taken out of their salaries, whatever their jobs were actually supposed to be, and regardless it was a steal for Manhattan.

Zoro stood by as familiar faces trickled in. His old crew. It had been about three years since he’d last come home to them. Being abroad was nice, but there was nothing like being with the crew. Zoro was the first to join Luffy’s bizarre adventure, back when they were delinquents living off the streets, the others joined somewhere down the line, drawn to Luffy’s positive, unyielding energy. Now Luffy more or less ran the city, if such a city could be run.

The first to arrive after Luffy and Nami was Ace who had gotten off work early, though he was always on call at the fire station. Soon afterwards Robin showed up with Franky who had somehow brought _eight_ cases of beer, and Usopp came along with a bunch of trinkets and gadgets to show everyone, including a “candy drone” which was a modified drone equipped to carry up to 4 lbs of candy and drop them systematically like little sugar bombs. Chopper, sweet kid, literally showed up with a cotton candy machine which he apparently got as a present for graduating from medical school, and what kind of party doesn’t have a cotton candy machine right? And finally a new member, Brook showed up looking like he came right out of the 70’s, or 60’s, or 80’s, Zoro wasn’t good with American history. The man was tall and lanky with a dark complexion and an afro that brushed the top of the door frame as he stepped in with and electric guitar strapped to his back, an electric violin and an amplifier.

As everyone arrived Zoro marvelled at how they all fit comfortably in the apartment. He wondered if he’d be living here himself… or if literally everyone lived here in this one apartment! They started drinking and joking and reminiscing, Brook whipped out the electric violin and chopper had the cotton candy machine up and running in no time flat. Apparently Brook was not only the resident musician but he managed entertainment and some degree of marketing in the company. Usopp, the mad scientist and engineer, got to work hacking the cotton candy machine.

“So the whole crew is back together” Zoro smiled, leaning against the living room wall with Robin.

“Oh not everyone’s here yet,” Robin assured, to which Zoro raised a brow.

“Marco? Who else, Viv? Usopp’s girl?”

“And one other, he joined soon after you left for Japan. I won’t spoil the surprise.” Robin smiled with that knowing smile, suggesting there was something to look forward to. Robin had those dangerously intelligent eyes that always seemed to know something interesting was ahead. She always left Zoro with more mysteries than answers.

Just then there were three firm knocks at the door. Nami opened it to a man in police uniform who spoke sternly, “Excuse me ma’am but I’m going to have to search the premises.”

Nami quipped back briskly “You’re going to need a warrant for that” before breaking into a laugh.

“Marco!” cried a few of the others, and Marco broke into a huge grin. He had lazy but sharp eyes and a bright splash of blond hair just on the top of his head.

“Still wearing the uniform huh,” said Zoro as Marco walked in.

“And looking good as ever in it,” Marco replied with a wink, taking Zoro’s hand in a firm shake and finishing with a jab to the shoulder. The police captain made his way to where Ace was standing and slipped an arm around the man’s waist, whispering something into his ear. Zoro smiled to himself, glad to see that the two men were still together.

“HUNGRYYYY” came an animalistic cry from across the room.

Marco laughed, “I’m surprised I got here before Sanji.”

“Sanji?” this must be one of the new guys Zoro thought.

“You don’t know Sanji?” asked Usopp from underneath the cotton candy machine, “I guess he must have joined right around the time you left. He’s great, wait till you eat his food.”

Marco whistled in agreement with a ‘hot damn’ sort of whistle that some people make when they see a super attractive person, but really shouldn’t because that’s street harassment.

“Hm, well if he’s part of this crew he can’t be a bad guy”

“You got that right, Zoro!”

* * *

 

The Baratie was about as good as it got in New York City. Reservations were scheduling out a year in advance, but Sanji, being the chef that he was, never liked the idea of only the elite being able to eat well, so he only took reservations for half his tables, allowing the rest of the space for walk ins. There was always a wait, and they would have to turn away many guests each night, but it was the best kind of compromise he could think of. Of course there was always a table for a select few clients, like Luffy, or Nami, even if they had to pull a table out or storage and stick it in the hallway in front of the kitchen (it had been done before). Tonight was like most others, busy, and filled with the cheerful voices of satisfied guests. He was trying out a new menu which he was very proud of, using almost exclusively local produce and fresh, seasonal meats. He consulted his experience abroad for ethnic influences to pay homage to the wonderful diversity of the city in this menu. Sanji had also been fortunate enough to live abroad in several countries to study their cuisine over the past few years, and he attributed a great amount of his success to the vast knowledge he gained from chefs around the world. Tonight the kitchen closed at 9 which was Sanji’s time to pack up and head home. The restaurant remained open later into the night with the bar, but Sanji’s work was done at 9 and he looked forward to relaxing for the remainder of the night. He hadn’t heard from Luffy or Nami about any plans so he expected a quiet evening where he might even catch up on his soaps. Not that he would ever, ever admit to watching soap operas, but Sanji was about as hopeless as hopeless romantics come, and the tv shows were a painless way of living out his romantic fantasies vicariously.

Sanji packed up a few bags of produce that was nearing the end of its lifespan and unused scraps to bring them home for himself. He couldn’t bear to let any food go to waste. Of course he donated most of what could be donated, and he even operated a non-profit kitchen for the hungry on the side, but there was still quite a bit of food “waste” that was still perfectly fine to eat. Sanji let the chefs, servers, and employees take what they needed and kept the rest for himself, no one was going hungry on his watch, and no food was going to waste. Today he had quite the haul, which was never a problem considering the amount of food Luffy alone could put away. He thought up some recipes on the way home, a short commute to the tall building emblazoned SUNNYGO where Luffy’s entire crew lived. Sanji was fortunate to to have his own apartment all to himself.

On the way up to the apartment Sanji’s thoughts strayed back to the curious events of the day… that strange man… It wasn’t until the elevator arrived at his floor that he began to suspect something was amiss. It was… loud. There was something going on, some kind of event, and the voices and music seemed to all be coming from one room…. His own? As he made his way down the hallway the sounds grew louder. He sighed so much for his quiet evening, but he was smiling. He took a moment to stand outside his doorway, listening to the absolute chaos inside. The whole crew must have been here, and they were probably hungry. He chuckled to himself, just an average day at SUNNGO, although Nami was usually kind enough to call, or at least text him when people were due to come over.

He opened the door and flooded the hallway with with lights, colors, happy voices and music. Everyone was here having a ball. Sanji entered his apartment, setting the bags of food on the granite island in the kitchen and gauged the crowd, stopping suddenly when he saw an unexpected figure.

“You!”

A familiar green haired man turned to stare back at him,“You!”

“SANJIII” Luffy came barreling towards the chef like an extremely oversized hyperactive puppy while Zoro and Sanji stood pointing at each other in disbelief. “What’s for dinner!!! Sanji meet Zoro! I want meat!”

Sanji’s brain was overloaded, he was still trying to put two and two together and Luffy wasn’t helping. He managed a friendly, “So you’re the new guy!” secretly delighted to meet the handsome stranger again.

Zoro paused and replied, “No, _you’re_ the new guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think Luffy's business is? What kind of entrepreneur could he beeEE :)) stay tuned to find out! Let me hear your guesses in the comments! (haha what no I'm not fishing for ideas... sweats nervously)
> 
> Also if you guys have any corrections, advice, criticism, whatever, throw it at me, I'm ready for all of it!! If you have suggestions or requests, I'll hear that too, gimme all of it!


	3. The New Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food, fun, and good conversation. Zoro and Sanji get to know each other and begin to think things might not be so bad.

“So you’re the new guy!” Sanji smiled,

“No,  _ you’re _ the new guy,” came Zoro's blunt reply.

There was a length of tension between them before Luffy quipped, “No, Brook’s the new guy!”

A killer guitar riff sounded from the back of the room that seemed to say “that’s me!”

Robin glided up to them smiling, “So it seems you’ve already met,” her eyes were studying them, interpreting them, figuring out things that neither of them knew themselves. She was a little too smart like that and it was sometimes unsettling.

“I saw him getting lost around the city” Sanji smirked, not revealing that he had fed him like a stray cat.

Zoro bit his tongue, knowing Sanji could have said worse, and simply shook his head. Robin studied them with a knowing smile.

“So who’s hungry!” Sanji began unpacking the food items. He was suddenly cooking for a dozen or so which meant he had to re-evaluate his menu plans. Something fast, ubiquitous, and easy to remix with the various ingredients he had brought home. The answer, of course, was pizza. Wasn’t the answer always pizza? He grabbed a huge bowl, threw in a bunch of flour, water, yeast and salt and whipped up a quick dough, letting it rise as he started on the other ingredients. He made quick work of them, from seafood bits to leafy greens, chicken gizzards to squash innards, he sliced and diced and sorted things into matching flavor profiles for separate pizzas, all while the oven preheated. Within minutes he had three different sauces going on the stove and a fourth pesto sauce on the counter.

Watching him work quickly, expertly, figuring things out and calculating as he went, Zoro could really feel that he was watching a genius at work. He also hadn’t eaten since the last meal Sanji made him, and remembering the incredible taste only made him more hungry and invested in Sanji’s work. As the pizzas were placed in the oven one by one they emitted the most mouth watering aromas which drew the crowd closer to the kitchen. Soon everyone was gathered as if they were watching some kind of live cooking show. The open-concept kitchen allowed them to watch the chef at work without crowding him. They all looked on in awe, savoring the wonderful smells.

Everyone was just plain happy. There was no better crew than this. Even in hard times, the support and solidarity, the  _ heart _ of this group of people, it was just pure gold. Zoro missed that. There was something great about travelling alone and studying on his own but being back here, this was the energy that screamed “home,” as chaotic as it could be. Luffy was bouncing on the couch with Chopper eating cotton candy - there was cotton candy everywhere. At some point the machine had more or less exploded due to Usopp’s tinkering, which he was now trying to fix at Chopper's command. Brook was now playing an uptempo classical piece on the violin which set a refined and energized mood for dinner. Ace and Marco were doing their best not to be lovey dovey and completely failing. Nami and Robin were chatting over tall cocktails that Sanji had poured them while Franky was doing something like dancing… or something.

When the pizzas came out of the oven it was like the gates of heaven were opening. Brook held a high, dramatic note as dinner was presented and Luffy had to be held back from drooling all over the counters. Greedy hands reached for the steaming pizza pies and Sanji gave each a sharp slap with a spatula before saying "ladies first you fiends!" The boys pouted as Nami waltzed up and gave a saccharine flutter of her lashes while presenting her hand palm up expectantly. Sanji prepared a gorgeous selection on a plate and placed it delicately in Nami's hand with a bow. Zoro groaned outwardly at this egregious display of chivalry, but everyone else chuckled at the routine display. 

When everyone was served the room quieted as everyone enthusiastically enjoyed the meal. The lack of conversation was a testament to Sanji's talent as a chef, and he smiled at all the satisfied faces. Within minutes Luffy came bounding back to the kitchen presenting his plate and declaring "Seconds!!"

"Help yourself Captain!" 

Luffy grinned devilishly and slid his hands around an entire dish of pizza hoping to make off with it.

"Oh- no you don't!" the cook laughed, and served Luffy another three slices instead.

Nami approached the the chef and he offered her more, but she politely declined as she was still working on the food on her plate. "Come here, Have you met Zoro?" She asked, beckoning him towards where the swordsman was standing.

"We've met briefly," Sanji replied, trying to imply that he didn't care to meet him any more tonight. He had a feeling they weren't going to get along.

"Wonderful!" Nami exclaimed, a dangerously sweet look on her face. 

Zoro looked up as the pair approached him. He had to admit, the chef was something. This pizza was in a realm of it's own. To put it in the same category as the greasy, soggy, underseasoned fast-food typically thought of as pizza was a disservice, and that's coming from someone who rather enjoys greasy fast food pizza. He grinned up at the chef, cheeks stuffed.

Nami started with an excessively cheery tone, "So Zoro, Sanji, I'm so glad you've both met already! I have a feeling you're going to get along  _ wonderfully." _

"Why thank you Nami dear, I'm sure we'll make it work," Sanji replied, equally sweetly.

"Oh Sanji, that's perfect! Because you're going to be roommates!"

"What," Zoro had known there was something sinister lurking behind that sticky sweet smile. He had known Nami for years before moving to Japan, her tactics hadn't changed a bit.

Sanji laughed, " _ Nami _ ," voice dripping with charm, "you are too funny! What an unparalleled sense of humor!"

"Aw Sanji," Nami's smile was equally over-the top, "I’m not joking~"

Zoro watched, confused, as the two stood smiling fake-smiles at each other, until he realized that they were at battle. This was another kind of battle! He found himself quietly rooting for Sanji in this smiling-match because he was also against the idea of having a roommate.

"Of course you're more than welcome to find your own place in Manhattan," Nami was undefeatable.

"Oh Nami you're so generous!" Sanji had been defeated.

_ 'Don't give in so easily you shit cook!' _  Zoro thought to himself, but he knew that in matters of money, there was no more formidable opponent than Nami.

Pulling her tablet out from under her arm, Nami brought up a screen showing a very complicated spreadsheet with some charts. "I've been reworking the budget to minimize waste and it's just much more efficient to have you two living together. These apartments were originally built for two or more." She turned to Sanji, "However, if you can bring in more profit with the restaurant I would consider giving you an upgrade, but I think the Baratie has peaked. We could expand the restaurant, or open a new location, but that will be quite the investment. Alternatively you could do more work with our private clients... we'll talk about this more."

Sanji liked that Nami was serious and supportive when it came to his cooking, but he didn't like how profit-driven she was. At least she didn't tell him to raise his prices. He hated the idea of food being unaffordable, and he already felt his prices were too high. "I actually have some ideas, let's talk over dinner some time this week?" He suggested with a charming smile.

"Perfect!" Nami now turned to Zoro who had been watching the exchange with little interest. He found their flirtation nauseating and insincere. "Zoro, I'll give you the weekend to get settled, then I'm going to put you to work! We're going to have you train the new security team on Monday, it will be on the 10th floor okay? Don't get lost!"

Zoro grunted in affirmation. His new life was about to begin, he had a new home, new roommate, new job, he wondered how things would go. His first day here had been chaotic, hours of wandering the city lost and winding up meeting the same man and his new roommate twice, well four times counting the train. The damn train.  _ Never again.  _ Zoro didn’t believe in coincidences, but he also didn’t believe in fate, so he wasn’t sure what to make of his encounters with the handsome chef. Certain aspects of the man’s personality grated on his nerves, like the flirtation around women, and the overall cocky holier-than-thou attitude. But he didn’t seem like a bad person, by any means. He had fed Zoro generously, and he seemed to be loved and trusted by the whole crew, which really said something. Zoro couldn’t quite tell yet but he thought he might even be attracted to the chef.

 

As the night wore on a few people took their leave. Chopper was falling alseep on the couch to Usopp volunteered to take him home, along with the cotton candy machine that had somehow grown a mechanical arm over the course of the engineer’s tinkering. Robin and Franky helped tidy up the space before taking their leave, and Brook also insisted that he wasn’t a night owl. Brook and Zoro had chatted a bit over dinner and Zoro could see why the musician became part of the crew, he was an eccentric but endearing character with many talents that Nami surely put to good use. Ace and Marco, who have their own place in the city, also excused themselves as the night wore on, and the crew slowly disbanded for the night until it was just Zoro and Sanji, with Luffy snoring on the couch. 

Now that things had quieted down in the apartment the two new roommates sat in silence. The apartment was in surprisingly good condition, as the crewmates, at least the responsible ones, had picked up after themselves and washed their dishes to spare the chef any unnecessary work. 

Sanji leaned against an open window and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “So how did you meet Luffy?” the chef asked the swordsman.

Zoro, who had been studying the chef’s movements, leaned back and chuckled as he thought back. “Luffy and I… We were a couple of delinquents. You know Luffy grew up in the system right?” 

Sanji nodded. Luffy, Ace, and the late Sabo were three “brothers” of the system, no family of their own and bounced from home to home during their childhoods. The three weren’t actually related, but they had stuck together as best they could.

“So Luffy and his brothers had gotten split up, he had just found out that Sabo had been ‘lost’ in the system. Apparently that used to happen a lot, probably still does… kids from the system end up in the hands of child traffickers or worse. So Luffy had had run away from foster care to find him. He never did find him, but he got into some trouble along the way. I was being raised by my uncle, but some things happened, I lost someone really important to me too. I ended up getting into some trouble and was sent to a juvenile detention center.” Zoro laughed, “that’s where I met Luffy.”

“No shit.” Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, mulling over the information.

“Yeah, I didn’t really talk to any of the kids there, but one day he comes up to me and says, ‘hey, you looks strong, join me.’ and of course I was like, ‘fuck off’ but then, you know how sometimes that kid, he just says the most profound shit? He said to me, ‘I want to be free. I’m not going to follow the path these people have set for me, one day I’m going to own this city and I’m going to be free. Come with me.’ and the rest is history.”

“That’s Luffy. And he really did it, the bastard. He pretty much owns the city.” Sanji laughed in awe.

“He’s still not satisfied yet. The company is great, but he wants to clean up the underground. That’s why he brought me back.”

“So you were in Japan for what, three years?”

“Yeah”

“I’m surprised Luffy let you go.”

“Honestly, me too.” Zoro paused, contemplateing on whether to continue the story, but the chef seemed interested in listening, and he was feeling very open. “I got my ass handed to me three years ago in a fight. We were doing underground fighting, climbing up the ranks, but I completely… I almost died. By that time Luffy was well established, he had Nami navigating the business and it was growing fast. So after I got beat I told him, I need to do better. I want to be the world’s best swordsman, and that’s not something I can accomplish here in New York City. I needed to go back to my roots, get some real training, grow as a person, you know? So he said to me, ‘go.’ and made me promise to come back.”

“Damn, that’s one hell of a story. You’re really serious about this sword stuff huh.”

“Damn right I am,” Zoro grinned. “What about you, how’d you meet the captain?”

Sanji looked out the window nostalgically, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I had just moved to the city to start my own restaurant. It was a small little hole-in-the-wall place and the rent was through the roof but I was determined to make a name for myself in the city. One day I got this reservation for like eight people, and the most rowdy, eccentric looking bunch come in, order a mountain of food, make a mess, and scare away the rest of my customers,” Sanji laughed, “The guy at the head of the table was this kid,” he pointed at Luffy’s unconscious form on the couch, “and he was the loudest of the bunch, and he put away food like he had a fucking tape worm or something. They all stayed for hours, eating and drinking and wearing me to the bone, I honestly couldn’t wait for them to leave. When they got the bill, Luffy asked for me and said ‘you cook good!’ then turned to a beautiful lady who turned out to be Nami and basically told her ‘I want it!’ and they offered to buy the restaurant on the spot.” 

“Oh shit, and you agreed?”

Sanji smiled wickedly, “I told them to fuck off.”

Zoro burst out laughing.

“I said, this restaurant was my dream and I was going to make it on my own. But Nami was really, persuasive,”

Zoro raised his brow and smirked “yeah I’m  _ sure _ ”

“No no, nothing like that. She explained to me that they wanted to invest in me as a chef and that I’d have complete freedom over my restaurant. I still told them a little more politely to fuck off though. But these guys, they came to my restaurant  _ every day  _ for the next week and kept offering me the same thing. I swear it was some kind of harassment, except before I knew it I was pulled in with their energy. I finally gave in and Nami handed me a contract and a six-figure check right there on the spot. I’ve never looked back, they’ve been really good to me.”

“Yeah, they’re good people.”

They were quiet again for a moment, just thinking back on all the good memories.

“Come to think of it, before I left for Japan, I remember Luffy saying he wanted a food guy. He started beggin Nami and she actually said it would be a really good idea to invest in the restaurant industry, or something like that. Of course they couldn’t just go about it the normal way.”

“Yeah, nothing’s normal with these guys.” Sanji nodded towards Luffy who was now upside-down on the couch snoring with his head brushing against the floor. 

“Does he normally sleep over here?”

“Luffy? The bastard’s got a penthouse with a jacuzzi but he still ends up sleeping over at my, Chopper’s, Usopp’s, or somebody else’s place every night.”

“Sounds like Luffy.”

They laughed and there was another comfortable pause in conversation. Somehow the energy between them was very easy, and they both enjoyed the opportunity to open up to someone, though they wouldn’t admit it. 

“So why Japan, are you Japanese?”

“Yeah, I was actually born in Japan, but when my folks died I was sent to the states to live with a distant uncle. I was like six or something. My uncle ran a dojo, that’s where I started learning the sword. After I got my ass kicked I realized that I needed to go back to Japan if I really wanted to improve my skills.”

“I see.” Sanji was fascinated by the swordsman and thought that maybe the two of them might get along after all. Zoro was a laid back but serious and down-to-earth guy and he was starting to actually like him as a person. Sanji’s cigarette was spent and he put it out in a nearby ashtray, then stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “I think it’s about time for me to make like Luffy and pass out.”

“Yeah, same.” 

 

That night the two of them went to bed thinking this whole roommate thing might not be so bad after all. 

 


	4. Scars

That night the two of them went to bed thinking this whole roommate thing might not be so bad after all.    
  


 

_ This whole roommate thing was a disaster. _

Box after box of Zoro’s things had begun to arrive at their doorstep. If Sanji had thought that the swordsman came with just his three swords and no extra baggage, he was dead wrong. The boxes piled high in the living room and were encroaching into the kitchen space which had Sanji feeling crowded and frustrated. With Zoro's new job and Nami being the slave driver she was, the swordsman didn’t have enough time at the end of the day to take care of his shit. Sanji was also frustrated because by Zoro's personality, apparently, the conversational first-day Zoro had been a fluke. The roommates had barely exchanged a sentence between them since that first night. 

More boxes arrived and Sanji came home after a long day at work to find his once clean and tidy apartment an absolute mess.

“ _ SwordBrain!”  _ the cook called out, nearing his wits end.

“Huh” came a voice from the living room.

“You’ve barely been living here a week and the place is already piled to the ceiling with your shit!”

Zoro rounded the corner with a threatening look. To be fair, Zoro always looked intimidating, but Sanji had been around monsters his whole life and the swordsman didn’t phase him. 

“they literally just arrived”

“It’s been  _ days _ !”

“I’m taking care of it, just relax” Zoro huffed and turned to face the stack of boxes, frowning.

The bastard clearly had no idea where to start. Sanji sighed and sorted through his bags of foods. He had a habit of cooking a late dinner after he got home from work, and naturally assumed the role of feeding his new roommate as he had free access to an excessive amount of food and cooking supplies. The swordsman was not a social eater though, he ate quietly, grunted when asked questions, and left it at that. It was honestly quite irritating, as Sanji couldn’t tell if the guy was just quiet of if he had some kind of attitude problem. He tried giving the guy the benefit of the doubt but it was starting to get on his nerves. That night after the party when they talked for what felt like hours seemed like a distant memory and a totally different person. It made Sanji a little uncomfortable because he couldn’t decipher his own feelings for the guy. Not that he had any particular feelings...

Tonight Sanji sauteed marinated shaved steak with wilted spinach and caramelized shiitake mushrooms and would serve them with a warm stack of buckwheat crepes. It was a quick and simple recipe but was delicious and nutritious. 

When the meal was complete he called for Zoro who set out a pair of plates and silverware. Sanji thanked him and served Zoro a generous portion, which was accepted eagerly.

If Zoro had to have a roommate, a first class chef was nothing to complain about. The only downside was that he honestly felt a little awkward about allowing the man to cook for him every night, and wasn’t sure what to say. The first night Sanji had cooked for him took the swordsman by surprise. He had told the cook it wasn’t necessary, but Sanji had insisted that it was all leftovers from the restaurant which he didn’t want to go to waste. It seemed a little too generous and Zoro was wary, so he was careful about what to say and settled on not speaking for the most part, knowing that he was prone to using offensive language that might make him appear ungrateful. On the contrary, his silence had been misinterpreted not as respect but as indifference. 

Zoro ate his crepes eagerly, savoring the perfectly cooked and seasoned steak, buttery mushrooms, and the warm, earthy crepes. He felt spoiled, being able to eat like this every night. It occurred to him that Sanji was like his personal chef, which made him feel uncomfortable as there was little he could offer in return. He always cleaned up after himself and did the dishes, it was the least he could do. 

The cook enjoyed watching people eat his food, and his roommate was no exception. The swordsman ate with intention, clearly enjoying every bite and never letting a scrap go to waste. As a chef, this gave him pride, there was nothing he disliked more than guests who left food on their plates at the end of the night. He appreciated that Zoro always offered to do the dishes, but his quiet nature left Sanji feeling a little uncertain about the mysterious man. He was generally good at reading people, but Zoro had a near-permanent crease between his brow that always made him appear more or less intent on killing something. To say the least, it affected Sanji’s ability to interpret his roommate’s expressions. At least the man was eye-candy. 

After dinner Zoro returned to his boxes, pondering how to proceed. He wanted to just rip open each one and dump them onto the floor, but he was quite certain this technique would only enrage his roommate further. He would have to go through them one box at a time. He sighed and went to his room to retrieve one of his swords.

Sanji saw Zoro come out of his room with a sword which he begin to unsheath while staring down the boxes. Was… was this knuckle head about to cup open the boxes with his sword?? The swordsman narrowed his eyes and raised the katana above his head. The chef looked on, partially amused, partially horrified, not sure if he should stop the man, not believing what was actually happening. In one swift movement Zoro swung the blade horizontally. Sanji’s jaw dropped. He really did it. He really just used his sword to try and open a cardboard box. This madness had to end. With horror he thought of what Nami would do to them if Zoro went too far and cut into the wall. No, absolutely not fucking happening.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

The swordsman looked over, “Opening the boxes like you said.”

“With a fucking  _ sword _ ??” Sanji rifled through one of the kitchen drawers looking for a box cutter or something. 

“Yes?”

“You fucking buffoon” the chef walked over holding a sharp little letter opener. “It didn’t even work”

“Yes it did,” Zoro stated, reaching up and pulling off a layer of cardboard. The swordsman had expertly sliced off just the box lids with such speed and precision that they hadn’t even moved from their original position.

“Holy shit.” The cook literally could not believe something like that was physically possible. It was the kind of stunt you’d only see on a TV magic show or something, like people who shoot holes in coins from 900 meters or shoot an arrow through another arrow. It just now dawned on Sanji that the man standing before him was  _ dead serious  _ about being the world’s best swordsman. He stared at the box, examining the clean cut, then noticed with horror, “The wall! Nami is going to kill us!”

“Oh, shit.” The swordsman frowned, viewing this as a deficiency in his swordsmanship. There was a fine scratch through the paint on the wall from being grazed by the tip of his blade.

“Just use this,” Sanji sighed, offering him the little letter opener.

Zoro looked down at it curiously, “Baby sword” he pondered, taking it in hand. Indeed it was an older style letter opener shaped like a small knife, or baby sword.

The chef shook his head. This man was hopeless. 

* * *

 

The next morning Sanji exited his room to chaos. The boxes had been emptied, all over the floor, and there was no sense of organization to them whatsoever. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, holding back the rage as best he could.

_ “MOSS-HEAD !” _

Movement could be heard behind his roommates door, and soon the swordsman stepped out in what looked like a thin cotton robe. “Huh?”

“Please explain.” Sanji said as calmly as he could while gesturing towards the mess

Zoro looked down sheepishly, knowing he had messed up. “I, uh.. I was planning on going through the boxes one at a time… but then.. the baby sword.... and I opened them all…”

Sanji closed his eyes in frustration, fists shaking with tension, he wanted so badly to punch this guy, but instead he burst out laughing. In his head he was imagining Zoro welding the little letter opener like a real sword and practicing his technique with it, opening box after box. He imagined he wasn’t at all far from the truth.

Zoro sighed with relief, at least the cook was laughing and not throwing punches. Looking at the mess he had made, he honestly felt any punches would be well deserved.

“You are truly unbelievable. Clean this shit up before I get home.”

“It’s not shit”

“Looks like shit to me”

“Fuck off,” Zoro groaned. He had to go to work soon, he really regretted opening all of those boxes last night, but... the baby sword was just so fascinating. 

* * *

 

Zoro got back to the apartment before Sanji and quickly went to work on his things. He didn’t have any storage bins so he just shoved things into piles based on what they were. Sword cases, cleaning materials, sharpening stones, wooden practice swords, and other sword related items went in one pile. Weights of various sizes and shapes and workout gear went in another pile. He had a whole stack of training mats that he wanted to lay out in one of the rooms but wasn’t sure that Sanji would allow him to. He had another pile of martial arts books and DVDs, mostly in Japanese. He had a very small pile of clothes and shoes, and a larger pile of neatly folded gi and hakama for formal training and competition in various martial arts. His Kendo uniform also took up a large amount of space. He could put the clothing and uniforms in his closet and dresser drawers, and there was a bookshelf in his room for the books and DVDs, but that bulk of his things were the training and workout gear and he had no idea how he was going to organize it before Sanji got home.

The lock turned and the door clicked.

And Sanji was home.

Walking in with his usual bags of food, the cook expected to find the apartment in a state of disarray, but was pleasantly surprised to find that some of the mess had been put away.

“Hm, it’s getting there.” Sanji said dismissively.

Not sure whether to be relieved or frustrated by the lack of appreciation for his efforts, Zoro grunted in reply and turned back to his work.

Zoro was in another one of his robe-like things. It appeared to be a Japanese article of clothing. Sanji considered robes a category of undergarment, as you wear them over your naked body, after a shower or something, so the swordsman was, in his opinion, in a state of undress. The garment was long and went to his ankles, and was wrapped around his body held in place only by a wide sash which was tied in a neat little knot. The fabric was an earthy green with white patterns dyed into it and it hung softly over the swordsman’s muscular body. The front was opened loosely, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. When Zoro crouched down on the floor, the fabric fell open around his lower legs. Perhaps he was experiencing cultural dissonance, but he felt that this garment was somewhat inappropriate as it made Sanji feel hot in his cheeks and he found it hard to look away. He decided to distract himself by making dinner. Cooking always calmed his nerves, grounded him. 

Zoro came to the table still in his robe, and Sanji was forced to pretend not to stare at the little triangle of exposed chest in front of him.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“What are you wearing?” The chef asked.

Zoro looked down as if to remind himself, “Oh, this is a yukata. It’s like a casual kimono I guess.”

“Oh.” Sanji took the conversation as permission to stare more openly. “The fabric is nice.” He wasn’t looking at the fabric. As he studied the swordsman’s skin he thought he noticed some odd looking marks. ' _ Scars?'  _ He thought.

Zoro stood up to put away his dishes and the front of the yukata hung more loosely than when he was sitting. From this distance Sanji could see the marks more clearly. 

A fork clattered to the hardwood floor.

Zoro glanced around.

The hairs on the back of Sanji's neck were standing up from what he thought he saw.

“You okay?”

Sanji gathered his thoughts and replied “your... chest?”

Zoro turned to face him, looking down at himself, “This?” He spread the front of his yukata with his hands to expose more of his chest. A pink and white scar ran across his entire torso in a thick, gnarled line from shoulder to hip. Sanji’s eyes nearly bulged out, he had never seen such a horrific and fascinating wound in his life, and he had seen his fair share of wounds. Nevermind the fact that he was openly ogling his roommate’s chest, Sanji was entirely captivated by the scar.

“Yeah this is from when I got my ass kicked and almost died.” Zoro chuckled, “it's the reason I decided to study in Japan.”

On the first night they had met when Zoro had said he’d almost died, Sanji had more or less taken it as hyperbole, but seeing the scar in the flesh he realized that the man before him had indeed nearly lost his life. How he remained standing here despite the enormous wound was miraculous. The cook found himself reaching out.

“You wanna touch it?”

“Can I?” He should have been embarrassed but he was overcome by fascination and curiosity.

“Sure.” 

Sanji reach out gingerly with one hand. His fingers grazed lightly across the knotted flesh, eerily smooth in some places and bunched into itself in others, hard like a callous. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing more firmly into the flesh, dragging his fingers across the entire length of scar tissue and feeling the bumps and dips like a mountain range.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore. Sometimes I get weird muscle aches, and sometimes the ribs that got sliced still hurt a little, but the skin is completely healed.” Zoro watched the cook’s long fingers explore his body, they felt cool and strangely comforting. 

“It’s not numb? You still have feeling in it?” Sanji knew that sometimes scar tissue could be devoid of nerve endings and unable to feel.

“It’s numb in places, and hypersensitive in others. It’s like my nerves got a little fucked up.” The swordsman had to stop himself from twitching when Sanji touched certain places where the nerves were sensitive. He found that he enjoyed the touch, no one had really touched him like this in a long time. Most of his human contact was through fighting, but this was almost… intimate. The way Sanji looked at his body with awe and fascination made him feel empowered and appreciated.

_ ‘This is so… sexy…”  _ Sanji thought, feeling the way the skin had stretched and reformed over the hills of muscles. He hadn’t consciously put both hands on Zoro’s body but the moment he realized that he was literally groping his roommate he tore his hands off and looked away, certain he was flushed red. Trying to think of something to say he offered, “It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

“That’s what the doctors said,” Zoro laughed, seemingly oblivious to Sanji’s predicament. Zoro didn’t mind the touch at all, but it seemed the cook had reached his limit. Perhaps the scar was too gross or perhaps touching another man was too weird. Or he’d just had enough. It was whatever. Sensing that their moment was over, Zoro turned towards the sink to wash his dishes, then turned back to take Sanji’s dish and wash it too.

Sanji stood, hiding the flush on his cheeks, and walked towards the living room. Looking down at his fingertips he could still feel the warm skin under them, smooth and scarred.  _ Shit _ , Sanji was in the danger zone. At this rate his attraction to his roommate would turn into affection and god forbid attachment. That was not going to happen. No way in hell Sanji would put himself through that. He still didn’t know if Zoro was straight or not, but he had to always assume the worst. That was life being gay. A man is always straight until proven otherwise. The consequence of being wrong was just too devastating, and Sanji had been there before.


	5. Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story really begins! I love this chapter!  
> WARNING: Whole Cake Island arc spoilers!

“How much workout shit does one man need?” Sanji stood gesturing towards the still unorganized pile of shit all over the living room.

“Maybe if you were a man you’d know”

“YOU FUCKING SHITHEAD, I  _ FEED _ YOU.”

Little fights were becoming a regular occurance in the apartment. It never escalated to physical violence, but they had gotten close several times. The truth was, Zoro didn’t know Sanji could fight. Sanji found it to be an entertaining little secret, letting the swordsman get into his big head that he was the only fighter in the apartment. The cook was biding his time until the perfect moment to kick his ass. Holding back was proving to be quite an effort though.

“And how many fucking swords do you need?? This whole wall is covered in swords and you still have more?!” Sanji gestured towards the living room wall where Zoro had mounted a sword display. At the top were two beautiful katanas, followed by some more simple looking katanas, and under those were wooden practice swords of various lengths, and under those was a bulky sword-shaped mass of wood that must have been designed for weight training.

“Swords is what I do, how much kitchen stuff do you have shit cook?”

“At least I keep my shit organized, your shit is everywhere!” Sanji gestured around the room, and then noticed that another sword display had been mounted on the opposite wall at some point. “And this! More swords” Sanji stepped towards where it hung. The sword was all white and very beautiful, but the placement was strange and clashed with some art that was already hanging on the wall.

“Does this really need to be  _ here _ ?” the cook reached up towards the white sword, but Zoro was by his side instantly, grabbing his wrist in a fierce grip.

“ _ Don’t touch her.” _

Sanji was frozen in place, the atmosphere in the room had shifted, for a second his fighting instincts had screamed  _ danger _ as the swordsman had moved towards him in a flash. Their bickering had ventured into something much more serious, and Sanji realized he had accidentally crossed a line that should not have been crossed.

Zoro saw the look of shock in Sanji’s eyes and quickly released the chef’s arm. He had crossed a line, he had told himself he wouldn’t lay hands on the chef, and it wasn’t fair to get mad at Sanji over something the cook was oblivious to. 

Sanji stepped back, shifted his weight making a mental note of what had just happened. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips and said, “Just don’t let your shit get in my way,” and walked off.

Zoro had surprised even himself. He hadn’t expected to lose his cool so easily. This was an indication of weakness, he concluded. He was embarrassed that he’d let his emotions get the best of him, it wasn’t right, it’s not what Kuina would have wanted. He stood facing the white sword which had been hers, and touched the saya gently. A katana is a swordsman’s soul, making this sword her soul, and his as well. 

The two of them went to work that day feeling tense. For the most part, Zoro actually liked his roommate, but there were some things that really irritated him. The chef just couldn’t seem to mind his own business, and the constant bickering left him feeling frustrated and invalidated. The swordsman was not oblivious to his own flaws, and recognized that there were things that he could do better, but he wasn’t a touchy-feely talk-it-out kind of guy. He liked to face his issues head on, and sometimes that meant fighting things out, which he couldn’t do with his roommate. He was frustrated. The ups and downs of their relationship were making him tense and throwing him for a loop. One moment they’d be at war over something trivial, like the toilet seats, and the next minute Sanji would be cooking him dinner and feeding him like a stray. Zoro didn’t know how to approach the situation without coming off like an ungrateful asshole, and he was pretty sure every time he opened his mouth he said something wrong - not that the chef was much better with his words. He didn’t  _ want _ to be constantly at his roommate’s throat, but there was an unspoken tension in the air whenever they were together. He needed to meditate, find balance, and also organize his shit. 

At the restaurant, Sanji found himself lost in thought over the morning’s encounter. The sword clearly had some special sentimental value to his roommate, Sanji pondered. It was more than just a weapon, and Sanji had crossed a line. The kind of tension between them now was awkward and unhealthy, it wasn’t the kind of energy he could live with on a daily basis. They had to make peace.

* * *

 

When Sanji got home he found the swordsman in the living room doing one-handed pushups and counting to an unreasonable number. Instead of starting dinner, the cook went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. He wasn’t a beer person, but the swordsman definitely was, and the drink had a time and place. Sanji walked up beside his roommate and set the bottle of beer down by his hand as a peace offering. Zoro continued his pushups until he reached “two fifty” and sat down with a deep breath.

“Come on,” Sanji said, tugging at the swordsman’s shirt. It was wet with sweat and Sanji rubbed his fingers together, not sure if he should be disgusted or not.

Zoro glanced at the beer on the floor, glanced up at his roommate, then glanced back down at the beer and took it, standing up. Sanji beckoned towards the door and Zoro followed quietly. The exited the apartment and walked to the elevator where Sanji pushed the button for the top floor. Sanji swiped his security card and the elevator beeped and closed its doors on them. They waited silently as the elevator rose, Zoro wondering what all of this was about. Perhaps Sanji was going to lead him to the roof and throw him off. When they reached the top floor they walked down a long hallway until they reached a narrow door. Sanji yanked it open to reveal a very steep staircase leading up. He turned to look back at his roommate with a wry smile, then ascended the stairs. Zoro climbed the stairs behind him and noted that he had a very pleasant view of the chef’s ass from this angle. The stairs opened up to a very small metal room with a single door with a heavy bolt which Sanji pulled out. He gave the door a hard shove and it gave way to the open air and night sky. They stepped out onto the roof and the evening breeze, the bustle of the city far below them.

Zoro took a deep breath of the night air, then a long swig of beer, turning to admire the view of the city at night. Buildings with their bright lights and cars buzzing like lightning bugs extended far into the dark horizon which glowed orange. 

Sanji lit up a cigarette and Zoro muttered, “You’re wasting the good air.”

“Yeah, bad habit” the smoker laughed.

A flimsy looking guard rail ran around the length of the roof’s edge and Sanji walked towards it, sitting down to slide his legs under the railing and dangle his legs precariously over the 40 story edge. Zoro joined him, sitting next to him with his legs hanging down, and Sanji looked at him with a smile. “You’re not scared” 

“Of course not.”

Sanji lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag before speaking. “Let’s talk about earlier.”

Zoro looked over, head tilted, “Talk? What’s that” 

Sanji laughed. “Come on,” he paused, “we clearly don’t know each other that well, so there are gonna be... things that come up. Like that sword, it’s one of your things. You don’t have to tell me your life story, just fill me in enough that I won’t accidentally be more of an asshole than I already am” He laughed again.

Zoro paused for a moment then lay back. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Sanji lay back as well. They both stared up at the stars. They could have turned their heads to the side and faced each other, gazing into the other’s eyes, but that would have been totally gay. And neither of them were gay, at least as far as the other knew.

“That sword belonged to someone.” Zoro took a breath. “She was really special.”

Ah, a woman. Sanji thought with a faint sigh of disappointment.

“She died.”

They were both quiet for a time.  _ Damn _ . Now Sanji was the asshole that harassed the guy with the dead girlfriend. Great look. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think of to say.

“Nah don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

The sounds of the streets below were distant. The city lights seemed to echo off the buildings with the sounds, tossing flashes of colors that scattered across the two men as they lay in silence. The breeze shifted, colder now, blowing the smoke in Zoro’s direction. Sanji put out his cigarette and sighed deeply.

“So what’s your story then?” Zoro asked.

“My story…” Sanji smiled, “I’m Sanji Black, the owner and executive chef of a Michelin five star restaurant in New York City.” It felt amazing to say out loud. Sanji was living his dream.

Zoro laughed, “yeah but there’s more to you than that, like, you have family, or something?”

Sanji was silent for a moment long enough to make Zoro suspect he said something wrong. “I have a father” he answered finally. “That man made me who I am today.”

“He also cook?”

“Yep. Meeting him changed me life.”

They were both quiet again for a second, and sanji realized he had misspoke. 

“Meeting… your father?” Zoro asked, confused.

Sanji sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He was doing a lot of sighing tonight. He wasn’t really sure he should tell Zoro everything, well, he certainly wouldn’t tell him  _ everything _ , but he felt like he could tell him some things. He wanted to. 

“Zeff… he was the chef who volunteered at the youth homeless shelter. He took me in.” Sanji let that sink in for a minute before he continued. “My parents, well, my mom was wonderful, but she died when I was young… My father, lets say I wasn’t growing into the man he wanted me to be… He disowned me when I was 13.” He regretted putting out the cigarette, he needed one whenever he talked about his past. “I ended up at a shelter and that’s where I met Zeff. He’s like my real father. He raised me into who I am today. It all worked out for the best, I couldn’t ask for more than what I have today.” He had to end it on a positive note. The man beside him was silent, he ventured a sidelong glance and saw that Zoro was turned toward him, studying him intensely. His face was very somber, understanding, something about the expression, or the way the city lights and the night sky played on his features, sent a pang to Sanji’s heart that made it skip a beat. He had to turn his head back up to the sky. This was the kind of moment in the movies where the two characters melt into each other’s arms and make love until sunrise, but that was absolutely not going to happen, unfortunately. He thought fast, “Don’t stare at me too hard or you’ll fall in love.”

At that Zoro was jolted out of his trance and he turned his head back to the stars, flustered, and a little overwhelmed by the story he was just told. Usually he was the star of the misfortune olympics but Sanji really took home the gold with that one. He had no idea what to say or how to react. He hadn’t expected to hear a story like that, and watching Sanji tell it, skin glowing from the flickering city lights, was a moment of intimacy he hadn’t prepared himself for. Sanji was truly an amazing man, strong in his own way, unwavering. For a moment he had felt a magnetic pull that had him absorbed in the cook’s presence, he was feeling things he couldn’t quite put into words. 

“I’m really…” Zoro paused, quite confident that he was going to say the wrong thing, “Happy for you.”

Sanji looked at him surprised. That was… different. He was expecting pity or some other distasteful reaction.

“You’re the head chef of a Michelob five star restaurant. You really showed them.”

Sanji laughed, caught his breath, thought over Zoro’s words, then burst out laughing some more. Zoro looked over quizzically, it wasn’t supposed to be funny. 

“It’s Michelin! Michelin stars! Michelob is a beer you absolute uncultured alcoholic!”

“What? I got it wrong? Whatever same thing!”

“Not even a little bit!!”

“Whatever, shit cook”

“I  _ literally feed you _ ”

They were laughing now. This type of bickering was the status quo for them and they were both glad that things were back to normal. They stayed on the roof for a while longer, laying next to each other and looking up at the stars. Both men were tempted to turn towards the other but neither of them chanced it, instead lying in a comfortably safe proximity.

Zoro went to bed that night wondering what other mysteries the chef had left out, what little details were missing from his story that shaped the man he knew. He was finding himself inexplicably drawn to Sanji, the way he’d been drawn to a few men before, and considered whether he should be worried about his own emotions.

There certainly were holes in Sanji’s story, and he went to bed unsure of how his roommate would have reacted to the whole thing. He wished that it would have been met with the same compassionate eyes and understanding, but to the wrong person, the true story could have been met with disdain.

 

Young Sanji was a sensitive boy. He was closer to his sick mother than his strict father. He had a love of food and flavors and loved the joy and happiness that was shared through cooking for people. His favorite class at his fancy private elementary school was culinary arts, to his father’s great disappointment. His best friends l were all girls, and when they met up for play dates they would dress him up and he would play along because the girls were sweet and cheerful and they were having great fun playing house and pretending to cook meals for each other. After one such afternoon his father came to pick him up, and Sanji would never forget the look utter disgust on his father’s face. The mother of the girls laughed apologetically, explaining that Sanji had great fun with the girls, and presented the Vinsmoke boy all smiles in a frilly dress and red lipstick. His father could barely suppress his rage. When they came home, Sanji was beaten raw and reprimanded in front of his sister and three brothers. This was the turning point. Little Sanji was no longer allowed to play with girls. He was monitored closely. Everything he did was under a microscope, and everything he did was wrong. He was meant to be an engineer, or a lawyer, or perhaps a doctor, someone worthy to carry on the Vinsmoke dynasty, butSanji wanted to cook. A servants job. A woman’s job. 

Sanji was soft, sensitive, had the audacity to be sad when his mother died, wasn’t motivated to succeed like his brothers were, wasn’t competitive like his sister. He was simply a good, sweet boy which was everything a Vinsmoke shouldn’t be. And then it turned out that he was gay. That was the final straw. No son of Judge Vinsmoke was going to be gay. He would not have it. The boy had to go.  _ What a disgrace to the family, what a disgrace to the Vinsmoke name _ . Even now, memories of that night brought tears to his eyes, being thirteen, confused, and berated by his father. He was told to never again use the Vinsmoke name. He was told never to reveal to anyone that they were related. Judge Vinsmoke was not his father. Sanji was not his son. He was nobody. And with that, he was driven away confused and in tears by the family chauffeur who was told to “drive him far away into the woods” but instead had the decency to bring him to a youth shelter, never to return to the estate. He lived in the shelter for almost a year where he became closely acquainted with the chef who volunteered there. A sailor and a chef, a wild looking but compassionate man with one leg. And Sanji’s new life had begun. 


	6. Never walk into a knife fight bare handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji enjoys his day off and Zoro finds himself growing closer to his roommate, despite their disagreements.

Finally, a day off! Once in a blue moon Sanji had the luxury of a break from his hectic everyday life. Usually his off-days were booked for private catering events, but today, today he was free!

And he had no idea what to do with himself.

Everyone else was busy with their own work. Chopper, Usopp, Franky, Brook, even Luffy was busy today. He could go see Nami, but he was quite certain that she would put him to work on his day off, so he decided against it. Perhaps he could stop at Robin’s museum and see what new exhibitions were on display. It had been ages since he’d last been there, and Robin was always a good person to talk to.

Robin’s museum was the most magnificent building in all of New York City. At least according to Sanji and anyone else in the crew. Towering high and wide, built entirely from stone, the building boasted tall, rounded turrets and dramatic Victorian metalwork laced along the rooftop edges, arching windows, and great wooden door. It was a castle. Robin specifically requested that the building be designed to feature original, historically accurate craftsmanship with nuanced details from varying centuries. The architecture itself was a curated collection of historical craft. The inside of the building contrasted dramatically with the exterior, featuring modern interior design and cutting edge technology. The stonework continued throughout each room, but was clearly tailored to the museum’s specific needs and aesthetic. It was a work of art. Robin had struggled to find an architect ambitious enough to build a museum to her specification, until she met Franky. He went above and beyond for the archaeologist, their vision and ambition drawing them closer until they fell in love and got married. It was the perfect love story built from the perfect castle. Sanji was awed every time he entered the museum.

“Sanji, it’s so rare for you to visit!” came Robin’s velvety voice.

“I have the day off and couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with your lovely self in your museum!”

“You flatter me. Would you like to see the new exhibition?”  
“I would love to.”

Robin lead the chef through the spacious rooms, pointing out her proudest finds and their historical significance. Sanji nodded along with great interest, though much of the information went over his head. Seeing Robin talk passionately about her work was a delight, and he was endlessly proud of her accomplishments.

“By the way, Sanji, how are things with your new roommate?” asked Robin with an inquisitive smile.

Sanji thought for moment, “we have our ups and downs,”

Robin nodded knowingly.

“I think… I think he might be an amazing person, if only he would act like it,” he laughed, “We’re like oil and water.”

Robin chuckled, “I think you both have more in common than you realize.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Why don’t you go to his class today? I think you might enjoy watching him work.”

Sanji looked at her bemused, she always thought of things that he would never in his right mind consider on his own. “I don’t know if I’d be welcome.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, where’s your confidence?” she berated, “You might even be able to teach him a thing or two.” Robin smiled wisely, “I think it would be good for the both of you to see each other outside of the apartment. Right now you only know each other as roommates, but there’s more to the both of you than that.”

Sanji saw the wisdom in her words, as always, and he couldn’t disagree. “Maybe I’ll pop into his lesson, just for a bit.”

* * *

  
  
Zoro’s job at present was to train a fresh batch of security personnel. There were absolutely no guns permitted on any of the SUNNYGO properties, so the security team needed to be trained in hand-to-hand combat and basic weapon handling. Zoro had studied more than just the sword in Japan, a holistic study of martial arts was necessary for him to achieve a thorough understanding and realization of his body and swords as a singular weapon. He studied Aikido, Judo, and Karate in addition to Kendo and Iaido and he also practiced mediation and basic weight training to hone his skills with hand-to-hand combat and various weapons. Of course three years was not enough to master every technique, but he continued his well-rounded training in his own time. Today he was going to teach his students how to ‘disarm and drop,’ a phrase he came up with himself. It was pretty simple: Disarm an opponent holding a weapon, and drop them to the ground. Zoro didn’t have much experience teaching but he was confident in his skills and figured it couldn’t be too difficult to pass on.

10 men and women stood in the training room as confidently as they could, but having been in Zoro’s classes all week, they were mentally preparing themself for the rigorous training ahead. The floors had built-in padding and Zoro grinned at the idea of Luffy specifically requesting that the room be built to these specifications.

“Alright, today we’re learning disarm and drop. The technique varies depending on the weapon and the opponent, but I’ll start with the basics. Can I have a volunteer?”

A heavily muscled man with cat-like features raised his hand.

“Pedro, perfect, take this,” Zoro handed the man a fake wooden knife, “pretend it’s a real knife and come at me like you’re trying to kill me.”

Pedro frowned at the graphic description, but obliged. He sunk his feet into the padding, then charged Zoro with impressive speed. Zoro turned to the side to dodge while his hands moved quickly, sliding onto Pedro’s hands, manipulating the knife out of his grasp, then used the man’s own momentum to drop him to the floor. It all happened in an instant, one moment Pedro was holding the knife, the next moment Zoro had the knife and Pedro was on the floor, winded.

“Thank you Pedro, that was great. Okay are you all ready to try it?” Zoro turned towards his class expectantly.

The students stood there, some with their mouths agape in utter disbelief. The students were all experienced fighters, many of them had worked previous jobs as security personnel or body guards, although some were just now learning the basics. Pedro, however, was ex-military and the most talented fighter in the group. No one had expected Zoro to floor him so easily. One girl in the group raised her hand nervously.

“Yes, Carrot?”

“Can… you show us again... but slowly?”

Zoro frowned, realizing that his demonstration hadn’t been adequate.

Pedro sat up, he had immense respect for Zoro, but could identify his shortcomings as a teacher. “Maybe we can break it down and explain what’s going on first?” Pedro suggested.

The swordsman knew that the student’s suggestions were valid, and as a long time student of martial arts he also knew that listening to his students would give him the best insight on how to successfully teach them. He realized it might have been too ambitious to expect them to learn how to disarm a person and drop them to the floor all at once. He racked his brain to think of where to start, flipping the fake knife in his hand.

“When you go into a fight, the most important person in the fight is yourself. Not your opponent, not the person you’re protecting. Your head and heart need to be in the right place, and you need to look after your body. If you can’t do those things, you can’t defeat your opponent, and you can’t protect the people you need to.” He looked around, the class was following along, he had their interest, “you might be tempted to charge into a fight and not worry about taking injuries, because you’re tough. But it doesn’t matter how tough you are, even minor injuries can severely impact your performance, and once you’re down, you can’t support your teammates, you leave them more vulnerable, and you can’t protect shit.” He was speaking from experience, because he used to be the reckless fighter that charged in without any sense of self-preservation and he had the scars to prove it.

“Playing it safe is not cowardly. I’m not training you to go into a fight and get yourselves killed, I’m training you to fight smart and survive.” He looked around, some of the students were nodding in understanding while others looked conflicted. Zoro continued, holding up the fake knife, “Never go into a knife fight bare handed. You _will_ be cut. Most likely you’ll take defensive cuts to the hands and arms. Deep cuts can sever tendons and arteries, if that happens you’re down for the count. Even minor cuts will impair the use of your hands, which you need to keep fighting. If you have to fight someone with a knife, grab anything to use as a defensive weapon, like a pipe or even a fucking stick. But before that, your first goal is to find a way to disarm them. That’s what I want to teach you now. The problem is, you have to get close to do this.”

Lifting his knife-wielding hand he presented his fist with the knife blade sticking up. “If your opponent holds the knife like this, they’re a dumbass and you can take them easily. Holding the knife like this lets you slice,” he swung his arm down in a slicing motion, “but the cuts are usually shallow compared to the alternative.” Zoro then twirled the knife in his grip so that the blade was sticking out of the bottom of his fist. “If your opponent holds the knife like this, they know what they’re doing. Holding the knife like this lets you stab on the way down and slice on the way up,” he swung the knife to demonstrate, “The attack is more powerful and the wounds are much deeper.” Some of his students were watching wide eyed, captivated. Some of them already knew this information, but they were still invested in the lesson. “I’m going to teach you a few ways to take a knife. Next time we’ll work on a gun. Knives are actually trickier, because it’s easy to cut yourself when you try to grab it. The moves I’m going to show you come from Aikido. The principle of Aikido is to use your opponent’s strength and momentum against them, that’s why we wait for them to charge at us. In Aikido, your size and strength are not what’s important, it’s about balance and control, so Carrot, you should be able to disarm Pedro once you learn this.”

Carrot smiled triumphantly.

“Okay so let’s partner up and go through the steps one at a time.”

Pedro smiled, the lesson was going much smoother now and the students were much more eager and interested.

Zoro glanced up towards the door, surprised to see his roommate leaning against the doorframe smiling. When did he show up? It wasn’t like Zoro not to notice a new presence in the room.

“Oh Sanji!” said Carrot, “Are you gonna join in?” She was bouncing from one foot to the other, warming up her ankles.

Sanji winked, “If sensei approves I might join in for a bit,”.

Zoro had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes into his skull. There he goes, flirting with the first girl he sees. “Come on, you can partner with me.” He wasn’t going to go easy on him. “Did you see the demonstration?”

“Saw the whole thing,” Sanji smiled, to Zoro’s dismay.

Zoro flushed a little, embarrassed by how the class had started off quite poorly. “Alright, take the fake knife and come at me like you’re trying to kill me.”

Sanji smiled, _oh that won’t be hard at all_. He took the wooden knife in his right hand sank his feet into the mats, then sprang forward.

_Fast!_

But Zoro could see him, he had his hands ready to disarm the blade, but just as Sanji came within his reach, the chef tossed the knife to his other hand and raised it, slicing down in a quick stabbing motion. Sanji knew that the swordsman was left-handed so the attack was aimed at his right. Zoro reached up just in time to block the attack with his right hand. The two of them stood in place, Zoro’s hand inches from his face with the wooden tip of the fake knife pressing into his palm. Some of the students gasped.

“You lost your hand,” Sanji smirked.

Zoro shook his head, “I underestimated you.”

Sanji smiled, twirling the piece of wood in his fingers and handing it back to the swordsman, “What did you expect, you handed a knife to a chef.” He offered a wink to the class.

The rest of the lesson went well, Sanji declined to participate in the following exercises, instead watching from the sidelines, he didn’t want to outshine sensei. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed watching Zoro teach. The beginning was comically awful, but as Zoro opened up and spoke from his experience he became much more engaging. Of course it was nothing Sanji didn’t already know, but Zoro had done a surprisingly good job speaking about self preservation and fighting with the right intention. By the end of the class the students had all learned to successfully disarm a knife from an opponent without getting cut and they were quite pleased with themselves. Some of the students even figured out how to ‘drop’ their opponent with some fancy legwork.

As the students filed out of the studio Sanji approached the swordsman. “You should dip the blade in red paint so they know if they cut themselves.”

Zoro looked up, _that’s a… good idea_.

Sanji laughed at his expression. “I’m sure Nami would be delighted when she finds the room covered in paint.”  
A look of horror passed the swordsman’s face, he was already going to be in trouble when she sees the scratch on the wall in their apartment from his sword…

“That was a nice class, after you took your head out of your ass,”

“My head was never,” Zoro scoffed, “fuck off. What are you even doing here.”

The chef laughed, “I had the day off and Robin said I should come check up on you.”

“Robin…” she always had some idea brewing in her head, it was impossible to tell what her intentions were.

“So I was thinking,” Sanji started, “we should go shopping.”

“What.” That sounded like the worst idea ever.

“You need some shelves and storage things for all your shit-”

“It’s not shit”

“So why don’t we go to a furniture store?”

It was actually a good idea, but Zoro somewhat loathed the idea of going shopping with the chef.

“I hear there’s a pretty affordable furniture place down the road, and they’re supposed to have nice stuff. Let’s go check it out.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, Zoro _was_ going to go furniture shopping, whether he liked it or not. He groaned but acquiesced, and the two soon found themselves in Sanji’s car driving to a furniture store.

The store was huge. It seemed to stretch out for days with wall-to-wall furniture, some of it arranged in sections to mimic a living room, or a kitchen, it was like there were rooms inside the room.

“ _Whoa,_ ” Zoro uttered.

“No shit.” Sanji didn’t even know where to start.

Seeing their expressions, a pretty young woman who worked the floor approached them, “Good afternoon gentlemen, can I help you find anything?”

Sanji instantly lit up, “Yes! Why thank you, could you help us find some shelves?”

 _Here he goes,_ Zoro thought, bracing himself for the arrival of Flirtations Sanji.

The young lady eyed them with a mischievous smile, “I think I have just what the two of you are looking for. It’s so sweet that you’re shopping for furniture together.”

Sanji flushed, stammering, “Ah, no, it’s not, we’re just roommates!” he corrected.

The swordsman eyed him, analyzing the chef’s words to mean he was embarrassed that the two of them had been mistaken for a couple. Zoro filed this in the ‘Sanji-is-absolutely-straight-so-don’t-even-think-about-it” folder.

“Oh! My apologies, I’m sorry for assuming!” the young lady laughed nervously. “Ah, here are some shelves! I think you might like this, it’s all wooden with a cherry finish, making it lightweight and elegant.”

“How much can it hold?” The swordsman asked.

“We’re looking for something that can support a significant amount of weight.” Sanji explained.

“Hm, you can certainly fill it with books without a problem, I’m not sure about much heavier items though. How much were you thinking?”

Sanji thought for a moment. Zoro had many weights, some of them up to a hundred pounds of more. A conservative estimate would be a total of 400 pounds, but it could easily exceed that… “Maybe four-hundred pounds, about the weight of two men?”

The girl flushed, “Ah, um, perhaps you’d be interested in the more sturdy stainless steel furniture?”

“Perfect” Said Zoro.

Sanji on the other hand was mortified as he realized what he had just implied. “Um, we’re just using them as normal shelves! He lifts weights, we need to put the weights…” The girl wasn’t buying it, she had a silly grin on her face as she led them to a different section with stainless steel appliances and shelving.

“This shelf should be _very_ sturdy,’ she suggested with a smile.

The shelf itself was rather bare-bones and looked a lot like scaffolding. _It’s hideous._

“We’ll take it.” Zoro said with finality.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not, you’re the one who wanted me to get a shelf in the first place”

“Yes but you need to consider the space, this would look terrible in the living room!”

“Who cares how it looks”

“ _I_ do!”

The young woman watched the two bicker like a married couple with delight before offering, “We have a few more sturdy options…”

“Please show me dear.”

Zoro groaned.

They were directed to a modern looking black shelf, stainless steel, with a minimalist and contemporary design. This was much better. Sophisticated, but didn’t draw attention to itself.

“This one.” Sanji said.

Zoro looked at it with narrowed eyes, “It’s the same as the other one.”

“Are you serious? It’s completely different. We’ll take this one.”

“If you say so.”

The pair continued to explore the store before checking out, at Sanji’s insistence. He admired the state-of-the-art kitchen appliances, marvelling at the sleek new designs.

“It’s just an oven”

“No, it’s a _double_ oven. I can bake a pie in this top section while roasting a turkey in the bottom.”

“Ooh, let’s get it.”

Sanji laughed, “not with that price tag.”

The two roommates eventually left the store with their new shelf. It came in a box, completely disassembled. Upon arriving home, Sanji started on dinner while Zoro dumped the contents of the box out onto the floor. There were about a million pieces and the assembly instructions was a thick booklet. The swordsman tossed the manual aside and set to the pieces determined to figure it out along the way. He didn’t. By the time Sanji called him for dinner he had constructed a Frankensteinian perversion of the original design that could barely stand on its own.

“What the actual fuck did you do” Sanji asked when he saw the monstrosity.

“I put it together”

“That looks _nothing_ like it.”

“It’s close enough.”

“Did you even look at it in the store?? Where’s the manual, did you use the manual?”

Zoro glanced over at the manual tossed haphazardly on the floor.

“No dinner until you finish this thing.”

Zoro grumbled, “you’re the one who picked it out.”

Throwing his hands up in the air Sanji realized that this would probably never get done right unless he helped anyway.

“Okay we’ll start by taking this abomination apart.”

“What!”

“It’s a disaster!”

Sanji flipped open the manual and skimmed through it while Zoro took apart his previous effort with great disdain.

“Okay so we start with these pieces, and they go together like this.”

An hour and a half later, the two of them were sprawled out on the floor in frustration. They had made some progress but the going was rough and they both insisted that the other was doing something wrong.

“No that part doesn’t go there”

“You’re breaking it!”

“Where’d that piece go, what did you do with it”

“This is like demonic legos”

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“I’m not a fucking engineer!”

It was a disaster.

“Let’s call Usopp tomorrow and make him do it.” Sanji finally said, admitting defeat.

“Good idea.”

Sanji looked around the room, groaning at the mess they had made. The floor was littered wall to wall. Looking up he noticed there was one thing they could do themselves that would make the space look better. Sanji pointed up at the white sword hanging between two framed Monet prints. “That sword is really special to you. Why don’t we hang it up somewhere better.”

Zoro looked over at the chef, surprised by the considerate suggestion. “Where should we put it?”

Sanji sat up, surveying the room before speaking, “I could move one of the Monet’s and shift the sword over on the wall, or we could hang the sword over on the far wall and move the clock…”

“It’s okay to move them?”

“Oh yeah, I just randomly hung them up. I think the sword would be better on the far wall, we can move the clock somewhere else, I never really liked the clock there anyway.”

After moving things around the two men admired their work. This was much better. The white sword was displayed dramatically in the middle of the the far wall, looking stoic and beautiful. Zoro felt proud having this special sword hanging in a place of prominence.

“Her name was Kuina.” 

Surprised that the swordsman had started talking about his past, Sanji looked over and stayed quiet to preserve the moment. But Zoro took a while before he continued, lost in thought before he started up again.

“I met her when I came to the states to live with my uncle. She was… she was really incredible. All the boys at my uncle’s dojo would pick on her for being small, and she would fight them and lose every time. But if anything it only motivated her to try harder.” He chuckled at the memories, “She would come to the dojo every night and practice for hours, and within a year she wasn’t losing fights anymore. The boys would pick on her and she’d kick their asses, both in and out of the dojo. I had so much respect for her, I had no idea... she was actually extremely insecure. But she told me, it didn’t matter if she was a girl or if she was small, she was going to master the sword so that no one could look down on her, prove to the world that nothing could stand in the way of her dream.” Zoro shook his head. “The place got robbed by some low-lifes. Kuina was there training, like she was every night. She took out two of them, but they had guns. In the morning,” he stopped, unable to find the words. “It was too late.”

Sanji studied the swordsman’s somber face, unable to think of the right words to say. Finally he stood and gestured, “Let’s go to the roof.”

Zoro looked up, about to agree when he remembered he hadn’t eaten yet. “What about dinner?”

Sanji grinned, “we eat on the roof.”

* * *

 

The night air was cool and cleansing. It washed away the events of the day so that there was nothing but the dark sky above and city lights below. Sanji had brought up two plates of _Hachis Parmentier,_ essentially Shepherd's pie, but French. They savoured the dish in silence, only the sounds of the city streets echoing off the buildings around them. When he was finished, Sanji lay back and lit up a cigarette, closed his eyes and took a long drag. He felt the swordsman lay down beside him, and waited a few breaths longer before speaking the question that hung on his mind.

“Did you love her?”

Zoro’s eyes were closed as he muttered his reply, “Yeah.”

Sanji’s heart ached for the swordsman. He had never been in love, and couldn’t begin to fathom the pain of losing someone like that.

“ _Shit_ .” He breathed, “I can’t even imagine what that was like. You lose your parents and come here only to lose the next person you loved. That’s fuckin _lonely_.”

Zoro would be a liar if he said he’d never felt the smothering weight of loneliness. It was as familiar to him as his swords, but in the same time, he had never let his loneliness define him. He reshaped it into independence and made it his strength. “I think I was just meant to be alone. I’ve never been able to rely on anyone but myself.”

Sanji murmured in understanding.

“Sometimes,” Zoro began cautiously, “I look at Franky and Robin, or Ace and Marco, and I think, I’ll never have something like that.”

The words hit home to Sanji. How many times had he thought the exact same thing. He felt a dangerous pull at his heart and pushed it down, pushed it away, as the swordsman continued speaking.

“We’re told these things about soul mates and true love, about finding that one person who will complete you, but I don’t think that’s right. I think you have to be complete on your own, you can’t count on someone else to be your happiness. It makes you vulnerable. It sets you up for loss.”

The cook pondered these words, agreeing for the most part but finding some conflict. “Maybe it’s okay to be vulnerable… I mean I think you’re right about all the soulmate bullshit. And I think depending on someone else to feel complete makes an unhealthy relationship, but that doesn’t mean love can’t still be a good thing. Right? I mean. I don’t know. I’ve never been in love,” He trailed off.

“Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

The swordsman thought for a moment, not sure how to explain, “You just strike me as, you know.”

“Huh?”

Chuckling, Zoro said, “Lover boy,” then laughed, “hopeless romantic.”

Sanji scoffed, though Zoro was dead on. “Then what does that make you?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a swordsman.”

“Then I’m just a chef.”

That didn’t quite feel right to Zoro. There was more to the chef than that, something he couldn’t place. He _was_ a hopeless romantic, but Zoro found that very endearing. The incessant flirtation with women was definitely something he could do without, but Sanji’s earnest, sensitive nature combined with his strong intention and sense of purpose were admirable to say the least. These were qualities that Zoro was very attracted to, not to mention the man’s physique. It had been a long while since Zoro had felt this drawn to a person, this willing to open up to them. He wasn’t like Sanji, attracted to anything in a skirt, Zoro’s attractions caught him unexpectedly. Sometimes it would be a woman, sometimes a man. There had to be something special in their character, something deep, sometimes painful, that made Zoro feel that they were of the same spirit, cut from the same cloth so to say. Sanji was proving more and more to be one such person, and Zoro found himself pulled in like a magnetic force. There were still so many mysteries about the chef that he had yet to unravel, and he wondered if doing so would once again lead to heartache and loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter but I like all the context it gives, I just love writing the two of them simply existing together haha. Can you feel the feelings growing between them :)))


	7. Soft Hanging Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zoro drinks soy milk and Sanji fantasizes about forbidden fruit.  
> WARNING: Sexual Content ;)))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a slur near the end of this chapter, I use the word fa**ot uncensored. I avoid using slurs in my writing, but there are times where I feel like certain words can elicit a poignancy that simply can't be conveyed any other way. I hope no one will take offence to this as it is used to demonstrate the painfulness of that scene.

Unable to sleep after their conversation on the roof, Zoro rolled in his bed to face the window. Usually he slept like a log, but his talk with Sanji had his thoughts wandering too much to relax. When was the last time he’d felt comfortable enough with another person to open up like that? It wasn’t that Zoro was guarded, he just never felt the need to talk about himself. Something about the cook made him feel… made him _want_ to open up. Like he knew instinctively that the man would understand.

He heard a door click from outside his room. Sanji must have had trouble sleeping too, the swordsman thought. But then he heard the lock turn and the front door open. Sanji was leaving? Glancing at the clock, Zoro saw that it was past midnight. Where could the chef be going at this time of night?

Sanji didn’t return until four AM. Zoro was fading in and out of consciousness when he heard the door turn and careful, quiet feet return to their room. Where had he been for the past four hours in the middle of the night? Booty call? This didn’t help the swordsman sleep, and he found himself tossing and turning until sunrise. Sanji wasn’t good for him.

In the morning Sanji woke wearily, muscles sore and joints aching. It had been a while since he’d last partaken in last night’s activities. He hid the bruises with a long-sleeved dress shirt, ocean blue with white buttons. Normally a morning person, Sanji glanced out the window to see the sun already high in the sky. It was almost ten AM, he would have to head to the restaurant soon.

Zoro, not having slept a wink that night, decided it was time to get up and take a shower to clear his head. He stepped out of his room just as Sanji opened his door and the roommates caught each other’s eyes.

 _Ah-_ Zoro was tempted to say something about the night before, then thought better of it and grumbled a “morning” instead.

“Morning,” the chef mumbled in reply.

The swordsman was in his sexy yukata again, Sanji noted, then shook the thought out of his head. Breakfast. Sanji was starved. He made a quick batter and whipped up some big fluffy pancakes. When Zoro got out of the shower he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips which sent Sanji’s blood pressure up a notch. The swordsman stared at the pancakes with hungry eyes and Sanji laughed, beckoning him over to eat.

Sanji was usually gone by the time Zoro woke up, so having the chef make breakfast for him was a welcome treat. The chef got up and walked to the fridge to grab some butter and paused when he looked inside, then pulled out a carton of soy milk.

“You drink soy milk?”

“Yeah,” Zoro said matter-of-factly while standing up to take the carton.

“Huh. You just don’t look like the poster boy for soy mi…” the laugh died in Sanji’s throat as he looked at Zoro with abject horror. The man was drinking straight out of the carton like some kind of savage.

Zoro noticed the chef’s stare, “Sorry did you want some?” he said, offering the carton, partially crushed in his grip, while wiping his mouth with his other arm.

Sanji backed away repulsed, “What the actual _fuck_ man”

“Huh?” the swordsman growled, expression shifting

“Straight out of the carton, soy milk? What kind of uncultured Neanderthal are you”

“What's wrong with soy milk? You want to start something?”

“I have nothing against soy bean juice, it's _how_ you're drinking it.”

“ _Bean juice?_ Show some fucking respect”

“That’s, wow, not the point moss brain,” Sanji rubbed his temples in frustration, “Pour a glass like  a civilized fucking human!”

“Soy milk is high in protein.”

“Again, not the point you fucking meat head! Are you even listening to me?!” Sanji rubbed at his eyes, stealing glances through his fingers of the towel-clad, shirtless savage with his massive scar and toned, tan body drinking soy-milk from the carton. _Ugh._ This man was bad for his health in all kinds of ways.

Zoro broke out into a laugh and Sanji looked at him incredulously. “I knew that would piss you off,” the swordsman smirked.

“Did you… was that all, did you do that on purpose?” the chef asked, exasperated.

“I mean this _is_ how I drink my milk. But I knew it would get you riled up.”

“You fucking…” He couldn’t stay angry. “Just don’t drink my shit like that.”

Zoro tilted his head.

“You _didn’t._ ”

The swordsman shrugged.

“My juice… my _wine_ …!” This was too much. The swordsman’s filthy, filthy mouth had been all over… _filthy._ His blood pressure was dangerously high, his ears were hot. The swordsman was not good for his health.

* * *

 

The two men had a typical day at work. When Sanji arrived home the swordsman was already in the living room lifting weights.

The chef put away his things and started dinner. While the oven pre-heated he took a break to use the restroom.

“ _MOSSBALL,_ ” Sanji called from the bathroom.

A grunt came from the other room in response.

“You left the toilet seat up.”

“So?”

“ _So?_ It’s uncivilized.”

“What, we’re both guys. You’re a man, it’s fine.”

“That has nothing to do with it you bonehead.” The chef stepped out of the restroom and rounded on the swordsman.

“Do you seriously not piss standing up? You sit on the toilet and let your dick hang down into the bowl--”

Sanji cut him off, fuming, “You are fucking _unbearable!_ Of course I piss standing up, that’s not the fucking point you shithead! Haven’t you noticed I leave the seat _and_ the cover down. That’s how a civilized home functions.”

“I noticed and it’s fucking annoying. What’s the point of leaving the cover down, you can’t use it like that.”

“It’s more sanitary, it’s _polite_ , is that such a foreign concept? I don’t want the gaping toilet bowl staring up at me while I brush my teeth, it’s disgusting.”

“You can’t be serious”

“It spreads germs!”

“This is ridiculous”

Their arguments were always some form of ridiculous. When Sanji finished diner they sat and ate in silence, glaring at each other. After dinner Sanji slumped down on the couch and flicked on the TV while Zoro washed the dishes. The chef loved cooking but hated doing the dishes, so he appreciated this trade off more than he let on. When Zoro finished the dishes he walked into the living room to stand over Sanji’s shoulder and cross his arms, frowning.

“Are you.. Watching soap operas.”

“Fuck off, it helps me relax.” Sanji admitted, masking his embarrassment with feigned anger.

“Wow, how are you not embarrassed.”

Sanji raised his voice, flustered, “What’s embarrassing about enjoying a tv show! Get over yourself!” he threw the remote at the swordsman, who caught it deftly, leaning down on the back of the couch next to Sanji’s ear and started flicking through the channels.

“Hey!”

“Hm, nothing interesting…” Zoro muttered.

Sanji could feel his roommate’s body heat near his face, feel his breath on his neck. It gave him shivers and made him flush. He needed to escape. Blow off some steam.

* * *

 

If there was one place Sanji could go to let loose, it was here. Skipping the line of people wrapped around the front of the building, Sanji waved at the bouncer and slipped inside. The hallway turned into a descending staircase, and as he walked down the lights grew darker and the sounds grew louder. Deep house music grew heavier until the bass thumped like a heartbeat in his bones. The music wasn’t always the same, but it was always loud. At the bottom of the stairs a heavy set of double doors opened to a spacious, crowded room with neon lights and tall, rounded stages placed around the room, some with cages and some with poles, some occupied by dancers. The air was hot and heavy from the crowd, thick with the smell of sweat, and blood. This place. He was taken here soon after meeting Luffy and the crew. Nami called it the “Side Gig.” Sanji had soon become a regular. It cut into his sleeping hours but his body couldn’t get enough of it, and the cash was good, _really_ good. Especially for someone like Sanji.

By the time Sanji got home it was nearly 4 AM. He quietly crept into the apartment and headed to his door, not bothering to turn the lights on as he knew the place by heart. Just before he reached his door he slammed his big toe into something solid”

“ _FF-_ ” Sanji caught himself before shouting. _Fuck_ . That _hurt._ Sanji’s feet were already sore from his night-time activities, this was completely uncalled for.

Turning on the lights, Sanji glanced down at the offending object. A dumbell. One of Zoro’s weights. In front of his room. The cook was fuming, standing on one leg gripping his throbbing toe. _That fucking meathead._

Sanji went to move the weight, or maybe throw it through the swordsman’s door, and found that it was inordinately heavy and not worth the effort. Tipping his neck to each side he cracked his neck and then stormed through his roommate’s door.

 _“I’m so fucking sick of your fucking SHIT.”_ the cook growled into the dark room. As his eyes adjusted he could see the glow of the city lights reflected on the swordsman’s unconscious body, lying face down and ass naked with no covers on. Flustered, Sanji couldn’t help but notice how Zoro’s perfectly chiseled buttocks seemed to glow in the moonlight.

The swordsman began to roll over to face the intruder and groggily mumble, “what?” while exposing his front to Sanji’s view.

“Put some fucking clothes on!” The chef screeched, heart rate jumping up 80% and throwing his hands up to shield his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” growled the swordsman.

“I just smashed my foot on your fucking weights in the middle of the hallway. Pick up after yourself like a decent human being! Didn’t we buy a shelf for that shit!” Sanji was ‘shielding’ his eyes but he allowed himself to view all the juicy bits between his fingers.

“Just… fucking… move them yourself” the swordsman grumbled wearily. This argument was too inane for this time of night, he hated being woken up.

“Why do _I_ have to move _your_ shit? They weigh a fucking ton.”

“Too heavy for you, shit cook?” Zoro slowly sat up.

“Fucking _hell_ , put some goddamn clothes on!”

“This is how I sleep,” the swordsman growled, “get the fuck out of my room if you don’t like it.”

“At least have the decency to cover yourself when you’re talking to me!”

“Don’t come into a man’s room in the middle of the night and expect to find me dressed up for you.”

“Don’t leave you’re shit in the middle of the hallway!”

“I’ll take care of it in the morning, fuck off!”

“I swear to god if they’re still there-”  
“You’ll what, _poison_ me?”

“I’d never waste food like that.”

“Whatever, fuck off.”

“Fuck you.”

Sanji slammed the door, fuming, adrenaline pumping and breathing heavily. He leaned back on the door nearly collapsing. _Fuck._

_Zoro was hung like a fucking horse._

Leaning back on the door and rubbing his hands in his face he tried to calm down, only to realize that he was hard. Fuck. _Fuck._ He needed a cold shower.

He went to the bathroom, stripped his clothes off and stepped into the freezing water, exhaling sharply. _Calm down._ His mind was swirling with images of his roommate, the dimly-lit silhouette was emblazoned in his mind, all the curves and sharp angles illuminated in the warm city lights, the defined edges of one muscle over another, the dimples in his ass. Every inch of the man was chiseled to perfection like a fucking Michelangelo sculpture, except with a much bigger dick. _Fuck_ . He wondered how it looked when he was aroused, if it got much bigger, thicker, harder, if it was slightly curved, head swollen and pointing upwards. _Fuck._

If anything Sanji’s erection was getting worse. The water came steaming off of him, pouring down his skin in cold trails that seemed to excite his body more than numb it. Slamming his hands onto the tile he grit his teeth and swore under his breath. There was no way he was going to touch himself to his roommate. No fucking way. But Sanji couldn’t get the image of Zoro’s body out of his head. He just… He wanted to feel all of that skin, all of the perfectly toned muscle, the soft hanging fruit. He wanted it in his mouth, he wanted to feel the soft flesh on his tongue, filling his mouth as it grew harder. He wanted to devour it, all of its length as it stiffened between his lips. _Fuck._ Sanji couldn’t stop himself. The icy water battered his skin but his dick was hot and needy. Hands slid down the wall and he couldn’t stop from wrapping his cold fingers around himself, imagining firm, calloused hands grasping him, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, stroking steadily. Teeth biting into his shoulder, the swordsman’s heavy member pressed up against his ass. _Fuck._ He was picky about sex but with a body like _that_ , Zoro could fucking _take him_ . Just… bend him over, slide his hands roughly down his back, grip him by the hips and slam into him… _Fuck._

He came forcefully on the tile walls, knees buckling underneath him. _Fuck._ He had just jacked off to his roommate. His straight as hell roommate. He felt disgusting. He felt like a fucking faggot. Sanji sat under the cold water, drew his knees up to his chest wrapping his arms around them and bowed his head to his knees shamefully. Water poured over him, through his hair and around his cheeks, dripping around his eyes, pooling under his eyelids and falling down his nose. The cold water was numbing. He was a shipwreck.

Zoro’s rude awakening left him in a sour mood. Sanji, that fucking prick, coming in to his room in the middle of the night and having the gall to be offended by Zoro’s body. He could sleep however he wanted in his own goddamn room, Zoro thought, pulling a sheet over himself shamefully. _Fucking heterosexuals and their fear of dicks._ The way Sanji shielded his eyes like he would be fucking contaminated pissed him off to no end. He felt bitter. He felt weirdly ashamed, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong by being nude in his own room. Deep down there was a part of him that had been strangely excited by Sanji seeing him like that, but Sanji’s reaction was just… depressing. He rolled over in his sheet and tried going back to sleep, unsuccessfully.

The two roommates didn’t sleep that night, feeling angry, bitter, shameful, lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS SANJI A STRIPPER?? IS ZORO AN EXHIBITIONIST??  
> STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT!  
> I appreciate all he comments more than you can know, thank you!!


	8. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji cater's an extravagant dinner for some very suspicious individuals. Zoro goes to the gym and meets someone interesting...
> 
> Warning: Whole Cake Island spoilers ahead!

The chef rolled out of bed, body aching and sore from his eyes to his toes. Thoughts of last night flooded back into his mind and he pushed them out wearily. No time to dwell on them, his moment of weakness had passed, he had a big day ahead of him. 

The Baratie was closed on Mondays. Not to give Sanji a day off though, it was so he could host dinner parties for the super elite and prepare catering menus. The catering side-hustle was Nami’s idea, but it was already proving to be highly profitable. There were important people with deep pockets always requiring the private services of talented chefs for any manner of event, be it social, political, or questionably legal. Sanji wasn’t directly involved with catering most of the time, he prepared the menus and more sensitive dishes, but the catering itself was carried out by his underchefs and staff. Occasional high-profile catering events would warrant his personal presence however, like today. The crew had gained a few ins to some of the City’s most important people through Sanji’s talent, and today he’d have to prove himself to a prominent investor, socialite, and political figure with supposed deep ties to underground operations.

One look at the man was enough to confirm any suspicion that he was involved in illegitimate activities, but no one could ever prove it. Most likely, the police were in his pockets, as they were deep enough to sway the most honest of government officials. It wasn’t the gregarious pink and white outfit, long feathered coat, or even the ridiculous designer sunglasses hat gave him the look of a dangerous man, it was his smile. There was something altogether sinister about the smile of Donquixote Doflamingo. 

Today he was hosting a lavish dinner party for some of the city’s most questionable characters, a “feast for the elite” was what he called it, but Sanji had the impression that there was much more going on beneath the surface than just a fancy meal. The chef had arrived in the early afternoon with his team of cooking staff at the Dressrosa estate to prepare and cook for the wealthy guests in the mansion’s extravagant kitchens. Now this was a part of the catering that Sanji loved. Occasionally hosts would ask that catering events be prepared on site, giving Sanji the opportunity to use some of the most fabulous kitchens and cutting-edge appliances in the world. 

From the kitchens, Sanji was unable to keep tabs on the dinner guests as he prepared the menu, but some of his staff were more like intelligence agents who subtly surveyed the party while serving hors d’oeuvres and apertifs. One such agent, a thin, dark-eyed man named Gin, returned to Sanji to report, an extremely apprehensive look on his already drawn face.

“Boss, there are some real monsters up there…”

“Oh yeah?” The chef had a curious smirk, but Gin’s worried frown only deepened. 

“You know about the Shichibukai right?”

Sanji raised his eyebrows. Now that was a name you didn’t hear often. The supposed rulers of the underground, the Shichibukai were a league of politicians, financiers, business moguls, and downright criminals with the power and deep connections to influence society in a major way. Untouchable by the law, they were more myth than reality, as few people knew exactly who these men and women were. But there was no doubt that their combined power and influence was enough to dramatically change the face of society, if they put their minds to it.

Dinner was a six-course affair, starting with a variety of antipasto followed by raw oysters with lemon and butter-poached lobster tails. A main course of braised lamb was served with caramelized pears and herbed chevre followed by a salad course of refreshing walnut and arugula salad with grilled enoki mushrooms and a lemon-honey glaze. Finally, desert was offered in three options; a fresh fruit and cheese plate, a molten chocolate creme brulee, and of course a classic New York style cheesecake with wild blackberry compote.

Sanji personally served the main and dessert courses, adrenaline kicking in when he saw that indeed, the room was filled with monsters. Some he didn’t recognize, but others were unmistakable - names he’d heard in conversation and on TV but never imagined he’d meet in person. Doflamingo sat at the head of the table. At his right sat a large, frightening looking man with a large scar cutting straight through his face horizontally. This was the crime lord who went by the name Crocodile, a shameless man who didn’t bother hiding his underground connections and wasn’t afraid to do his own dirty work. The fact that a man like this sat at Doflamingo’s right sent a clear message as to what kind of gathering this was. It was certainly no meeting to discuss the betterment of marginalized communities or any other fluffy endeavor. 

On the other side of the pink feathered man sat the gorgeous and dazzling Lady Boa Hancock, a world-renowned actress and superstar who had invested her fortune in a number of New York industries as well as donated tens of thousands of dollars to local charities. She was loved and hated by the media, as all famous women are, but behind her car-stopping looks she had a calculating wit and fiercely determined ambition that made her a force to be reckoned with. Next to her, to her visible discomfort, sat a slob of a man named “Blackbeard.” Sanji didn’t know much about this character, but he could tell just by looking that he didn’t like the man. Next to him sat Senator Bartholomew, a reserved man with a hulking figure who had been elected to three consecutive terms on the Senate. 

Two very unattractive men sat opposite the Senator, a ridiculous character with a clownish face whom Sanji recognized by his street name “Buggy” but couldn’t figure out why he would be among this company of elites. The other man Sanji didn’t recognize. He had a massive body, an unintelligent expression, messy blond hair and a long white handlebar moustache. Weevil, it seemed his name was. Next to him sat investment banker and part-time fashion designer Gekko Moria, an unnaturally tall man wearing eccentrically gothic makeup and Victorian attire. At the end of the table sat Rear Admiral Jimbei, a retired Navy officer who was now involved in political reform and various community endeavors. Lastly, the smallest man in the group of giants was Dr. Trafalgar, a world-renowned surgeon who had saved the life of a believed-to-be untreatable world leader, and had climbed to the top of the medical world by performing miraculous feats of modern medicine. 

Sanji was surprised to see the diverse array of faces which made him all the more intrigued as to what this dinner party was really about. From what the chef could glean it seemed like there was a schism between the members as they couldn’t agree on certain obscure plans. His agents caught some snippets about “deals” and “taking down someone” or something “going down” but it was all very hard to decipher, as the party spoke cautiously around the servers.

When Sanji brought up dessert, Doflamingo broke conversation with his guests to address the chef.

“Sanji, I can’t tell you how delightful this meal was,” he crooned.

“You flatter me,” replied the chef, bowing politely.

The host turned to face the table, “Tonight’s dinner was made by the talented Sanji Black, he works under the Sunnygo corporation, I’m sure you’re all familiar.” 

Some of the party members nodded and acknowledged the chef.

“You know Sanji,” said the pink host with his devious smile, “I was tempted to invite that boss of yours, Mr. Monkey.”

“Well Luffy isn’t one to turn down a dinner invitation, I’m sure he would have been delighted.” Sanji replied, cautiously but politely.

“Good Good, I’ll keep him in mind next time around. Maybe you’ll be sitting here getting served dinner instead.”

“I would be honored.”

After serving dessert Sanji was instructed to gather his things as the guests were now engaged in a closed-door session. He was paid handsomely in cash and he and his staff left the mansion exhausted, but glad they didn’t have to stay and clean up. How incredibly interesting. It truly felt that something big was going down, and the Doflamingo character wasn’t afraid to let Luffy’s crew know. He had boldly invited the business mogul’s personal chef to serve his party, and Sanji took that as an invitation, or a challenge, to discover what the mysterious group had planned. Nami would lose her mind when she finds out who was present, and he called her as soon as he got in his car to have her meet him for dinner at the apartment.

* * *

 

Zoro also had a day off today, but unlike Sanji, he was not forced to work a side-gig. He slept well into the morning and woke around noon, stretching and rolling over, contemplating how to spend his day. Most likely he would work out. Apparently there was a gym not far from the building, and the swordsman was tempted to check it out later. He picked the weights up from around the floor, recalling Sanji's antrum the night before, and frowning at the memories. While he made himself breakfast he heard a phone ringing and looked over, surprised to find a landline phone in the living room. He let it ring as he assumed it wasn’t for him, but when the ringing stopped the line clicked and the voicemail started speaking aloud.

_ “You’ve reached Sanji, leave a message.” _

A young woman’s voice came through the speakers, it was soft and worried, “ _ Sanji… It’s me, Reiji. Please listen, I know it’s been a long time, but please call me back, it’s very important… I love you.” _

Zoro stood frozen in place as his eggs browned on the stove. He felt like he had just heard something he wasn’t supposed to. The words  _ “I love you” _ rung out in his mind. His heart sank, and memories of last night came back to him, the angry chef barging into his room, shielding his eyes, shouting angrily. A strange emotion overcame him, something like disappointment, frustration, jealousy. It caught him off guard as he hadn’t realized his feelings for his roommate had become so… volatile. The smell of burning food snapped him of of his thoughts and he looked back at the stove. 

_ “Fuck!” _ he muttered, taking the frying pan off the heat and shoving it under the faucet where it sizzled and popped. Sanji would kill him if he found out he wasted food… He liked that about the chef, he wasn’t frivolous or wasteful when it came to important things, and he was generous and compassionate… Zoro snapped himself back out of his reverie once again. He needed to focus. Get a grip. So Sanji had a lady lover, so what. It was none of the swordsman’s business, and he wouldn’t let whatever budding emotions he had for the chef create unnecessary stress or drama in his life. It seemed like a good time to check out the gym.

A gym on the same street as Luffy’s building, miraculous. Were it any further away Zoro wouldn’t be able to get there without getting lost, though he would ever admit it. It wasn’t the most hi-tec gym, but he wasn’t at all interested in the fancy machines, h was all about the free weights. The punching bag was a bonus, and the boxing ring in the back? Fun stuff. True he wasn’t really into hand-to-hand combat as much as the swords, but was there a more entertaining full-body workout than beating up someone and/or getting beaten senseless? Not that he was aware of. He started off lifting weights while studying the people around him. The boxing ring was unoccupied until two people showed up, a woman and her coach and began stretching. Not really sure how the ring worked, he figured he’d just have to butt in if he wanted a fight, maybe he could challenge the coach, she seemed quite powerful. 

He continued lifting weights while observing the other guests. He didn’t wear headphones or watch the TV’s placed around the gym, he just went into a meditation-like state of focus counting the reps while his muscles buzzed and burned. He was always aware of the eyes studying him though. Foolish, he wouldn’t never let himself get distracted like that, focusing on someone else’s workout rather than his own. Someone on his far left was studying him with quite some intensity, and then began to approach him. Zoro remained focused, this too is a kind of training. He continued his workout as he felt the person come up beside him and stop.

“How would you like to step into that boxing ring back there?” the voice was strong, confident, and a little cheeky. Zoro offered him a glance, still continuing his reps. What he saw almost floored him. It wasn’t the man’s fiery red hair that caught his attention, it was his face. He looked shockingly similar to Sanji. The hair was completely different, the man’s physique was wider set, more thick with muscle, and the guy’s overall vibe was nothing at all like the chef. But his face, something about the eyebrows, maybe his nose, and his lips were… Sanji. 

Zoro lowered the weights and turned to face the stranger, a smile spreading across his face, “Sounds fun.”

“The name’s Ichiji” the man said, offering a hand.

“I’m Zoro.” The swordsman put down his weights and took the handshake, firm, confident, challenging.

They made their way to the boxing ring and Zoro’s blood was buzzing. He loved a good fight, and this man seemed like he checked all the boxes. 

They started off slow, circling each other, studying the way the other moved. 

Zoro was more the type to stay quiet during a fight, let his body do the talking, but Ichiji was apparently quite the conversationalist and started off with “You don’t usually box huh?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I don’t usually fight with my hands.” Zoro answered honestly

Ichiji laughed at this “reminds me of someone” He took the first swing, a right hook.

Zoro doged deftly replying “oh?” while countering with a left jab.

“He’s a loser though” Ichiji laughed, jumping to the side, then stood tall, changing his stance. “Why don’t we skip the foreplay” he said suggestively. 

Zoro grinned and raised an eyebrow. The next few swings came quick, one after the other. Zoro doged two then took one to the side, a calculated hit, pushed into it and followed through with an uppercut that sent the red head back a few steps.

Wiping his mouth, Ichiji said “bold, I like it.”

They continued, neither one gaining the upper hand but neither one giving in. A small crowd had gathered around the ring to watch. Ichiji seemed to enjoy the attention, Zoro could take it or leave it. They were breathing heavily now. Ichiji had tossed his shirt off which the crowd seemed to enjoy, and Zoro really couldn’t complain. He refrained from taking off his own shirt because he didn’t want to draw attention to his scar. Ichiji’s skin was fair and smooth, like Sanji’s. He was probably a more muscular version of Sanji. It was impossible to tell what Sanji’s build was like through the suits he always wore, for all the swordsman knew Sanji could be built like a truck under there, or he could be a softy. Zory grinned, either would be a delightful surprise honestly -- A sharp jab to the cheek sent Zoro back to reality.

“You’ve been distracted since the shirt came off” Ichiji was jabbing with his words now too, “Like what you see?”

“Sorry I hadn’t noticed” Zoro replied, not willing to give up the disinterested facade. He caught a punch aimed at his diaphragm, holding the other man’s fist in his iron grip. It might no have been a legal move but Ichiji had been making some suspicious moves himself, it made it more interesting. The two of them struggled against each other wrestling. Zoro found the man’s bare chest pressed up against him quite exhilarating and chalked it up to the fact that he hadn’t been in a good fight since leaving Japan. Zoro tried a Judo trick to trip his opponent and they ended up on the floor and everything started getting a little too exciting. He had a feeling Ichiji was purposefully trying to make things erotic, with the way he slid his hands and placed his knee between Zoro’s thighs. It wasn’t a surprise based on the way the red-head had been talking earlier. When Ichiji ended up on top of him, one leg rubbing against his groin, both hands on his chest pinning him down, Zoro decided to give rather than escalate the situation. Ichiji leaned in close and muttered into Zoro’s ear “So I’ve been thinking. We should continue this. Elsewhere. I’ll pick you up tonight at 9. We’ll meet here.” And with that he sat up, still kneeling over Zoro, and waved at the small crowd before he walked off. Zoro sat up smiling to himself.  _ Interesting.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments so far, I truly appreciate it! It really makes it all worthwhile! If there are any inconsistencies or if you have any questions or suggestions, please don't hesitate to ask!! 
> 
> If you like Kid/Law, I started a new fic called "under the knife" which you might enjoy, please give it a look if you have the chance!


	9. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro goes on a date with someone he shouldn't

After leaving the gym, Zoro got lost on the way back to the apartment, to his great dismay. A few loops around the block lead him back to a place where he could see the “SUNNYGO” sign on the building that was home. When he arrived he took a hot shower and thought curiously about the red-headed man he had sparred with. The man had been physically attractive, but Zoro wasn’t sure if it was his resemblance to his roommate that captured his appeal, or if he was genuinely interested in Ichiji. He supposed he would find out tonight during whatever the man had planned. Would they go on a date? The fiery stranger didn’t seem like the dinner-and-a-movie type. He hoped that something more interesting was planned, it sure sounded like it. Hopefully the man wasn’t just implying sex. Not that Zoro was averse to the idea of a healthy romp with someone as attractive as Ichiji, but the swordsman found sex less enjoyable when he didn’t have a strong connection to his partner. 

When he got out of the shower there was a knock at the door. Zoro opened it, wet and wrapped in a towel, to find Nami standing in an elegant business dress with her tablet in hand.

“Zoro! Put some clothes on.” She said with a half-irritated smile.

“Yeah yeah,” replied the swordsman, turning and letting the lady in.

While getting dressed Zoro spoke to Nami from his room, “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I just thought I’d check up on you two,” she started, “and Sanji invited me over for dinner.”

“Right.” That lecherous chef. Zoro exited his room in a fresh pair of black slacks and a dark green v-neck. 

“So how are things with Sanji? Are you two getting along?”

“Nope.” Zoro replied bluntly.

Laughing nervously Nami asked, “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“He cooks me dinner, and I wash the dishes and he yells at me.”

“Aw, sounds like you’re married.”

Zoro made a sour face.

“But aren’t you lucky to have the renowned five-star chef cooking you dinner every day.”

“Yeah. It’s just leftovers though,” He said modestly, rubbing a hand in his hair.

“But still, he’s making you dinner and you both eat together… It’s like you guys have a date every night!” Nami teased.

Zoro made another face, He had thought the same himself. And it just so happened that Zoro was  _ terrible _ at dating, he hadn’t been on a single date that didn’t end in disaster. He was a bad date, so basically every night with the chef had probably been a bad date, or so he thought.

“You look troubled. What else is going on.”

_ ‘Women’s intuition. Scary.’  _ Zoro thought, searching for the right words to say. “It’s just, there are things about him that really irritate me. I mean he’s a good guy, but there are some things he does that  _ really _ bother me.”

“Like what?” Nami asked, sipping a glass of water she had gotten herself.

“Like he’s,” Zoro paused, searching for the right words, “he’s  _ really  _ heterosexual.”

Nami nearly spit out her water, choking, then laughing, “ _ what??” _

Zoro looked at her with uncertainty, “Like, the way he acts around women, it’s just ridiculous. Anything in a skirt and he immediately starts to flirt. And he gets offended at everything,” Zoro thought back to the night before, how Sanji had been horrified by seeing the swordsman’s nakedness. The swordsman didn’t hate straight people, not by any means. He himself was bisexual. But he did hate straight people who flaunted their heterosexuality all over the place, and no one was worse than Sanji. He was an insatiable flirt. Every woman he passed, any woman who so much as looked their way, he would fawn over them, dote on them, compliment everything from their hair to their toenail polish.

Nami’s face was still red from choking on her water, “Well he certainly does act goofy around women,” she agreed, “but he’s… you know…” she studied his face for an answer to her dilemma.

Zoro just looked at her quizzically.

“You… don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Nami sighed, rubbing the back of her neck at the awkward situation, “It’s really not my place to say. Why don’t you bring it up when he comes home, tell him you think he’s too heterosxual,” she laughed at the thought of Sanji’s reaction. Because Sanji was about as non-heterosexual as they come.

Zoro made a face, that was absolutely  not a conversation he wanted to have with his roommate. He decided to change the conversation, “So why are you really here?”

Nami grinned. The man had good intuition. “Well Sanji had a very important job today, and he’s gonna tell me all the juicy details. Plus we need to talk about some plans for expanding the restaurant, and, there was one more thing… What was it…I forgot!” she laughed, having genuinely forgotten.

“What kind of job?” Zoro asked.

“Some big-shots, and from the sound of it,  _ seriously _ big movers and shakers got together and had Sanji cater a fancy dinner party. I think something big is going down, and whatever it is, we need to be prepared.” Nami had a serious look on her face.

Zoro ginned dangerously, cracking his knuckles, “Sounds like things are about to get interesting.”

Nami laughed nervously, “Don’t make such a scary face!” 

“Sorry, got excited,” the swordsman laughed. He glanced over at the clock and noticed it was 8:50. “Oh, I have to go,” he said, standing.

“Go? What, you have a date or something?” Nami joked teasingly.

Zoro looked at her, grinning, and simple shrugged before leaving the apartment.

“Wait! Zoro!  _ You _ have a  _ date _ ?? Are you serious?! Tell me more!” She called after the man.

When the elevator opened in the hallway the swordsman came face-to-face with his roommate who must have just gotten home from work.

“Zoro?”

“Chef.”

They exchanged nods and walked past each other awkwardly.

When Sanji came to his room he was delighted to find Nami waiting for him. “Nami! I hope I didn’t make you wait. Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? A cocktail?”

“A cocktail would be wonderful, thank you,” Nami replied smiling, “I was just here with Zoro, he’s a terrible host, I had to get my own water!”

“The brute” Sanji laughed, sounded about right. “Where’d he go anyway, he’s usually home for dinner.”

Nami grinned wickedly, “It seems like he has a date.”

Sanji couldn’t stop his smile from faltering. Something in his stomach clenched and his heart fell. Nami noticed this and her expression changed to one of surprise, then understanding. In that one moment she was able to put the puzzle pieces together. 

“Sanji,” she said softly.

Looking up with his bright smile plastered back on his face, Sanji laughed, “what? Zoro on a date? I feel bad for the girl!”

Nami noted Sanji’s assumption that the swordsman was straight. She wondered if it was her place to correct him, but decided against it. It was her general policy not to out people, regardless of the circumstances. The chef seemed unwilling to talk about his feelings so she let it go, for now, saving it for a later conversation, possibly one with more alcohol.

“So tell me about your dinner party,” she started, getting down to business. “Who was there?”

* * *

 

Ichiji arrived in an extraordinarily shiny red sports car.

“Hop in,” the man said with a smirk when he pulled up to the curb.

Zoro obliged eagerly, sliding into the front seat of the powerful vehicle. The interior of the car had warm red lights and a digital dashboard that made him feel like he was inside a space ship flying through the night. “So where we going?” 

“You’ll see,” the red-head replied deviously, glancing at Zoro and offering a sly grin and a wink, “I have a feeling you’re going to love it.”

The car pulled up to what appeared to be a busy club. Zoro was apprehensive as he hated dance clubs, hated the crowds of people, hated the dancing and the loud music, and hated the obligatory socialization and flirtation that always ensued. 

“What is this…” He asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, it’s not what you think.” Ichiji reassured.

There was a long line of people wrapped around the club but the red haired man walked right up to the bouncer and showed him some kind of card. The bouncer nodded and said, “right this way Mr. Vinsmoke,” permitting the pair to enter. They walked down a short hallway which lead to descending stairs that grew louder and darker as they went down. Ichiji walked in front of Zoro, and when he reached a large set of double doors he glanced back at his date with a wild look in his eyes and pushed the doors open.

Zoro’s senses were flooded with pounding music, neon lights, and the smell of sweaty bodies. But there was something else, the unmistakable scent of dried blood lingered in the air. He looked at the red haired man in front of him curiously, what exactly was this place? At first glance, it looked like a strip club, with elevated platforms with cages and poles for dancing. Two women stood in one of these cages, but they were not dancers, no, they were  _ fighting _ . Zoro’s eyes lit up with understanding as the two of them travelled deeper into the space. They pushed past the crowd until they hit a metal railing, and beyond the railing was a lowered pit, about the size of a boxing ring, perhaps a bit larger. The swordsman’s face was now painted with an excited grin as he looked up at his partner. 

Ichiji looked over at him with the same dangerous expression, then leaned in and shouted loudly into his ear over the music, “I knew you’d like this place. You can’t fight tonight since you’re new, but I signed us both up for tomorrow”

“Awesome. Are you fighting tonight?”

“Sure am, are you gonna root for me?”

“Only if you’re good.”   
Ichiji let out a rowdy laugh that vanished into the sounds of the club, slapping Zoro on the back, then pulling him away from the ring and towards a raised seating area. A small section with plush leather benches was tied off and the red-headed man stepped up to his table, offering Zoro a seat on the bench. Soon a young woman arrived with menus to take their drink order.

“What do you want?” Ichiji asked, “Don’t hold back.”

“Don’t regret it,” Zoro smirked, “Do they have sake?”

“We have everything,” the cocktail waitress said with a smile.

A bell rang and a booming voice could be heard over the speakers  _ “How are we all doing tonight? Who’s ready to see some blood?!” _

The crowd cheered and Zoro smirked at the sinister announcement. Their drinks came shortly and Zoro sucked down a bottle of sake to bring his alcohol level up to match his adrenaline. The red head watched him in amusement, glad his date was enjoying the night so far, and downed a glass of red wine.

The announcer introduced the first fighters of the night as they walked out into the fighting pit from the wings in the back. One man was tall and lean, walking out casually. On the opposite side of the pit, a heavily muscled man stomped out, beating his chest and roaring which riled up the crowd even more. 

“Who’s gonna win?” Ichiji asked, leaning into Zoro’s ear.

The swordsman smirked, the average person wouldn’t be able to make such a prediction without first seeing them fight, but Zoro was not the average person, and he studied the fighters, their gait, their composure. “Clearly the big guy is quite emotional. He’s focused on himself. Despite his size he could be very agile, but I can already see that he favors his right side side. His center of balance is low which is to his advantage, but he doesn’t know how to stand. The skinny guy, he’s hard to read, which already tells me he’s experienced and had good control of his body. He’s calm, level headed, he’s analyzing his opponent. I would bet on the skinny guy, but that being said, if he’s weak there’s only so much he can do against an overpowering opponent.”

Ichiji grinned, “Good analysis. I happen to know that The skinny guy has won his past few fights against much larger opponents, so,” he turned towards the waitress who was back at their table with more drinks, “put me down for five on the little guy.”

The waitress smiled and confirmed by showing “five” on her fingers. 

“Five what?”

“Thousand,” the Vinsmoke heir smirked. 

Zoro muttered a “ _ damn _ ” under his breath.  _ Rich people _ . The swordsman preferred the thrill of fighting over the thrill of betting money he didn’t have. 

The men in the pit fought, and for a while they appeared evenly matched, until the larger man began showing signs of weariness. That was the turning point, and the smaller man suddenly rounded on his opponent with strength and agility that he had been reserving until that point. The match was over in a flash and the large man lay face down in the pit, heaving heavily. 

“Good call,” Ichiji muttered into Zoro’s ear, lingering with a breath on his date’s neck, sending a chill down Zoro’s spine. Both of their bodies were coursing with adrenaline and alcohol, and the red haired man found himself very excited by the scene of the men fighting below. The swordsman didn’t find watching fights to be particularly arousing, but he could sense the energy coming off the man next to him in waves, he could sense that the man  _ wanted _ him. This in itself was highly erotic. 

As the next pair of fighters entered the pit, Zoro watched them beat each other up with his date breathing on his neck, lips a hair’s breadth away, ghosting up and down the swordsman’s muscular neck. Ichiji was also watching the fight with barely contained excitement, holding himself back from devouring the his alluring date. In the pit below a larger man threw a decisive blow, smashing his opponent square in the jaw sending blood splattering across the stage. The lips at Zoro’s neck turned to teeth biting down suddenly, making him gasp in surprise and sending a jolt of electricity from his neck to his groin. The fight ended and Zoro’s date was all but feeding on the muscles around his throat. Ichiji could feel the vibration of Zoro groaning on his lips which only made him mouth at the skin more hungrily. He slid a daring hand onto Zoro’s knee and onto his thigh, feeling the muscle tense under the slacks. 

“Relax,” the red-head growled lustily into the swordsman’s ear.

Zoro wouldn’t be surprised if the man intended to stroke him off right there in the club in the middle of the fight. The prospect was both exciting and terrible. His body was responding to the touching and kissing but his mind was hesitant, he wasn’t sure he wanted this, not yet, not here, not him. 

The waitress came back to the table and stood awkwardly, noticing her, Zoro pushed his partner away and gestured towards her. The girl leaned in to speak to the red-head, “Mr. Vinsmoke, you’re up next.”

A sinister smile crooked the man’s face as he looked back at Zoro, “root for me,” he winked.

Zoro smiled, but in all honesty he was lost in a whirlwind of feelings. He was secretly glad the woman had come for Ichiji, he didn’t want things to go any further with him, everything was just going too fast for his liking. He didn’t know this guy well enough to be making out with him in public. Since when was Zoro the kind of guy who kissed in the club. He shook his head at himself. From the booth he had a good vantage point to watch the fights. Currently a man and a woman were fighting, and Zoro was pleased to see that the fight club was mixed-gender. 

The woman took several hits, buckled, but stood back up, stumbled, turned around and then spun, sending a flying roundhouse kick into her opponent’s face, catching him off guard. The man was a good fighter, but he had clearly underestimated his opponent for being a woman. Zoro knew better. The man stumbled, catching himself and stood up, charging angrily. He lost the match the moment he lost his temper. The woman, still cool-headed despite the beating she had taken, planted her feet and waited for the man to come at her. Just as his blow nearly landed she swiveled, grabbing the man’s arm and swinging him around in the direction he was going, using his momentum to manipulate him into her fist. The man crumbled to the floor and the fight was won. The crowd went wild. 

“ _ And she did it! That’s our Boa Sandersonia, taking down Bellamy!”  _ came the announcer’s voice. 

‘ _ Bellamy… why does that name sound familiar…’  _ thought Zoro.

_ “Up next we have a treat for you! Sparking Red, a name to be feared from the West coast, right here in New York!”  _ Ichiji strolled out, arms up in the air, sunglasses on his face, red hair shining like fire in the spotlights. The crowd cheered, the ladies seemed to love him. 

_ “And on he other side, we have the Candyman!” _ An extremely tall and eccentrically dressed man walked out and bowed deeply. He was wearing a long bright yellow coat and a tall, candy-cane colored top hat trailing feathers.

_ Lot’s of weirdos here. _

The bell rang and the fight started, Ichiji circled his opponent, who stood still, watching him. The red-haired man was like a wildcat circling his prey, and after thoroughly surveying his opponent, he pounced. In an instant he was at the man’s throat, but the ‘Candyman’ had slipped out of his trenchcoat and Ichiji was holding the yellow garment in surprise. And the man was behind him, in a purple and pink polka-dotted suit. The red-head sensed his presence and without turning around sent his elbow sailing back, catching the colorful man in the chest. 

Zoro watched with interest as the two fought. His date was sharp, intuitive, a natural fighter. The opponent was slippery, sneaky, Zoro didn’t like this fighting style but he acknowledged its effectiveness. Watching Ichiji move was invigorating, and the swordsman found himself captivated by the steady and efficient fighting style, the strong arms and powerful legs, and his ever-calm and confident smile. 

The red hair was becoming slick with sweat but his moves were only becoming sharper, faster. He had just been warming up. The taller man noted this as well, deciding he’d better finish this before the Vinsmoke heir released his true power. Candyman got in a few shallow hits, but Ichiji was just toying with him. The crowd watched in awe as the fiery Sparking Red played with the colorful Candyman in the palm of his hand. The tide of the fight had changed entirely and was now a sadistic display of Ichiji’s dominance. This made Zoro slightly uncomfortable. He found toying with his enemies to not only be disrespectful to the idea of fighting, but also a foolish effort. He had seen many cocky sadistic bastards have the table’s turned on them when they pushed an opponent too far. He wondered if the Candyman would lash out like a cornered animal to take down his date. The eccentric man did lash out, but it wasn’t enough to take down Sparking Red. The fight ended violently with Zoro’s date dominating the other man in a brutal display of unbridled strength. 

Ichiji’s power and control certainly excited the swordsman, but his feelings towards the man were still uncertain. On the surface he reminded him of Sanji, but underneath his looks they were nothing alike. Sanji was introspective, thoughtful, emotional, romantic… he had a depth to him that Zoro had yet to unveil. This man was… none of those things. Everything was out in the open, his confidence, his hunger, his brutality. He was quick-witted, critical, direct, intentional, but in many ways almost superficial. Zoro didn’t feel that depth, that magnetic connection when he looked into his eyes. They were almost hollow. 

Midway through the next fight Zoro’s date returned to his side with a wild grin and sweat-slicked bangs. He slid onto the bench next to the swordsman with eager eyes.

“What did you think?”

“You were great,” Zoro replied.

The man beamed “I’m excited for tomorrow, I’ll get to see you fight.”

Zoro grinned, “I can’t wait,” he said cracking his knuckles. 

“You wanna bounce?”

Zorro looked back at the pit, but decided he had seen enough fighting for the night, “yeah, let’s bounce.”

Ichiji stood and they walked to a window on the back wall where he settled his tab and earnings. He ended up taking home a tidy sum from both his betting and his fight. 

“We’re gonna take home even more tomorrow,” the fiery man said. Zoro didn’t care so much about the money, but he was looking forward to a good fight.

Zoro was escorted to Red’s sports car and they drove off into the night, the glowing interior casting red highlights and dramatic shadows on both of their features. They arrived at the SUNNYGO complex and Ichiji looked over at Zoro lustily before leaning in close, slipping a hand into the cropped green hair, and planting a lascivious kiss on the swordsman’s lips. Zoro didn’t resist, finding the touch and pressure of the man’s lips against his to be satisfying a craving he hadn’t realized was growing within him. He kissed back hungrily, then pulled away to look into the man’s face.

_ Sanji. _

The thought caught him by surprise, but he didn’t resist it. The alcohol in his system inhibited him from stifling the thoughts of his roommate that came pouring into his brain, and he kissed the red-head feverishly, imagining his hands running through blond, not red, hair. The kiss was much more enjoyable if he imagined it was with the chef. A heat was rising inside him, burning his neck, his chest, turning his stomach, and awakening his loins. Almost on queue, Ichiji moved his hands to Zoro’s thighs, massaging the firm muscles and moving closer to where his legs joined. 

_ Sanji. _

The swordsman let out a deep, lusty growl, and tightened his grip in the man’s hair, opening his eyes and momentarily stunning himself with surprise when he realized the hair was red. 

Ichiji growled into Zoro’s mouth, biting down on his tongue and pulling, sucking on his lips, travelling to his neck to devour his throat.

“Let’s take this inside,” the red haired man groaned with lewdly.

Zoro paused, “My roommate…” he didn’t want to take this further… Not yet at least, not while his head was full of someone else. He felt conflicted. Kissing was one thing, but going further with someone while thinking of another was indecent. 

“Damn,” Ichiji muttered, pulling at Zoro’s earrings with his teeth, “Maybe tomorrow then,” he grinned lasciviously, “you can come to my place.”

“We’ll see,” Zoro replied coyly, his face unreadable.

“What a tease,” his date smirked.

Zoro got out of the car feeling hot and light-headed from the alcohol and adrenaline. When he reached his apartment he remembered that it was late and his roommate was alseep.

_ Sanji. _

The swordsman turned on the shower, stripped briskly and hopped in, feeling the warm water wash over him. The heat translated to hot hands stroking his chest and he recalled the day Sanji discovered his scar. He remembered that look of awe on the chefs face, how captivated he had been by Zoro’s body. It had made him hot then and was making him hotter now. Were Sanji’s lips at all like Ichiji’s? Soft but firm, needy, pressing into him wantonly, sucking on his lips with ardent desire. The chef was a hopeless romantic, was he gentle? Was his touch delicate and soft or stern and commanding. He certainly had a temper on him, yes, the blond was feisty. He was a feisty lover and Zoro imagined that sharp mouth nipping at his skin, lithe fingers sliding down his body, curling around his stiffness with expert precision.

* * *

Zoro, on a date. Laying in bed and struggling to sleep, Sanji’s thoughts were occupied by the unbelievable prospect that his roommate, his brutish, ungentlemanly roommate was on a date. When Nami had left Sanji found himself checking the clock every minute, waiting for the swordsman to come home. He thought hopelessly of how desperately he wanted the man, and how he couldn’t have him. Since his night in the shower he just couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the visage of Zoro’s body, and when he did manage to stifle the image something else would pop up, something he had said in conversation, something endearing, something heart-wrenching. The torrent of emotions was unbearable, and all he’d seen of the man today was just that glimpse as the passed in front of the elevator, barely exchanging words.

Now he was tossing and turning, unable to sleep as he imagined Zoro,  _ that _ Zoro on a  _ date _ . Where did he meet her? Did he take her to dinner? A movie? A stroll through Central Park? Perhaps something more interesting, maybe they went to a museum, one of the interactive ones, like the ice cream museum. Maybe they went to see a show, or a fight. Some women are into that sort of thing, and Zoro seemed like the type to like that sort of woman. But now it was late, past midnight. Was he there at her place, did the date go so well that she invited him home? 

The door clicked. Sanji jolted out of his thoughts and listened intently as his roommate snuck in, crept to the bathroom and started the shower. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was well past midnight, nearly 3 AM. They had definitely engaged in extracurricular activities. His mind wandered and his heart faltered. Was he gentle with her? Was he rough? Zoro was a rugged man but Sanji could tell he had a tender heart, he was a sensitive lover, attentive, but also assertive. That powerful body, Sanji couldn’t help but sneak his hands down between his legs at the images rolling through his brain. 

_ Sanji _

Zoro began stroking himself desperately to thoughts of his roommate. Ichiji’s kisses still emblazoned on his lips, he imagined they were Sanji’s, hungry and desperate. Sanji’s hands on his thigh, those curious, dexterous fingers dancing down his scar, gripping at his hips to grind them together, Sanji’s naked body, under him, Sanji’s mouth over his lips. 

In his own room Sanji’s thoughts mirrored those of Zoro’s. He imagined that muscular body, those powerful sword-wielding hands gripping him by the hips and pressing their heat together with urgency. That hungry mouth that had eaten so many of Sanji’s meals with pleasure, sucking at his lips and biting at his tongue. 

The two roommates longed for each other in their separate rooms, unaware of the other’s feelings and desires. 

Zoro came powerfully on the tiled walls where Sanji had only the night before. Sanji released over his chest, wiping himself down with tissues. As the euphoria faded, a flood of shame hit them both simultaneously and their fantasies crumbled around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, all the comments, bookmarks, etc. are hugely appreciated. If you can share this story on tumblr or whatever it would mean a lot to me too, I just want other ZoSan nerds to be able to enjoy this work, I just love them! I have some great stuff planned and I hope you'll all stick around for it! Next chapter will have some flashbacks which I think will fill in some insightful pieces of the past!


	10. Mother

The clear blue sky was as vast as the ocean, he couldn’t remember a day more beautiful than this in his early memories, and it tugged at his heart with so much melancholy as he sat in that quiet room, quiet save the sound of the steady pump of the respirator and the beeping of the monitor. 

_ Can she hear me? _ He wondered, studying that pale, sunken face on the bed beside him, a face that had once been so bright and warm and full of love. 

The slow rise and fall of her chest under the blankets was so subtle he sometimes wondered if the beeping of the heart monitor was a lie and she was already gone, gone into that vast beautiful sky, blue as her loving eyes, vast as her heart.

“I finally made a boy friend,” a young Sanji had spoken quietly so as not to disturb the stillness of the room.

“Father said I’m not allowed to play with girls, it was so lonely,” he had left out the part about all the boys who had picked on him, bullied him. “But I finally made a boy friend.”

She didn’t move. The nurses said she could hear him, but he wondered if they only said this to give him peace. He was so achingly alone in this. His brothers were bitterly indifferent, abusive, his sister offered little by way of support. Alone in this quiet room with his dying mother, how he longed for his voice to reach her, penetrate her unconscious mind, carry her back to the land of the living, back to him. How cruel was the sky on that day, so clear and blue when inside this room it was overcast, inside his heart it was pouring rain. 

“He played his violin for me afterschool. You would like him, he plays really well.”

The steady pump of the respirator sighed rhythmically in response.

“Maybe if he came and played for you, maybe you could hear it?”

His voice cracked. 

“They say I can’t cook for you anymore… I hope what they’re feeding you is good.” 

The young boy’s eyes were fixed on that spot in the blankets that rose and fell so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. Glancing occasionally at his mother’s face, tubes sticking out frighteningly, he wondered how uncomfortable she’d be if she woke up like this.

“My friend, I wish you could meet him. He’s so nice. He makes me very happy when I’m with him.”

He felt childish, talking to the silence of the room, when in fact he was nearly a teenager. Coming to her room like this, every day, to find her condition slowly deteriorating, it made him feel like he was wasting away too. How he longed for this to be over, for his loving mother to recover and for life to go back to how it was meant to be, with her kind, doting arms, her soft, gentle voice. If only she would wake up, all the horrible things would be better. Father wouldn’t be so mean, his brother’s wouldn’t be so cruel. If only they had that gentleness, that miraculous goodness in their life, that healing quality of a mother’s presence, everything would be different. Everything would be better.

A desperate force tugged at his heart as if magnetized to something outside of his body. In this calm, quiet room, the longing inside the still boy’s body was hysterically urgent. 

He reached out with delicate young hands to take the frail fingers that lie on the mattress, and wrapped his warm hands around them, squeezing gently and praying for something in return. Some brief acknowledgment of his presence. Some indication that his being there had brought her comfort.

He sat there for hours, watching as that beautiful blue sky heated into a pink and purple glow.

A knock came at the door and Sanji stirred to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

“It’s time to go, little Vinsmoke,” she spoke gently.

Part of him hated to leave, and a guilty part of him was relieved. He stepped towards the nurse and through the doorway, looking back one final time. His mother’s head was tilted towards him, and her eyes, her eyes had opened and were staring at him a piercing blue. Sanji froze in place, heart stopping in his chest, those bright, pleading eyes so powerfully grounding him in the doorway. He wanted to run to her, run to her desperately, and a fearful, cowardly part of him was so frightened by the intensity of those eyes that he wanted to run away. But before he could move the door had been closed behind him, and he stood there feeling empty, speechless, like a part of his own soul had been left behind that closed door, captured in the vastness of those blue eyes, and forever lost.

She didn’t make it through the night.


	11. The first rule of fight club

Sanji awoke, haunted, with a desperate ache in his heart so deep it seemed to hollow out his bones, his very soul. He hadn’t felt the intensity of the loss of his mother, and all the losses that followed, this deeply in a very long time. And somehow Zoro seemed like just another loss waiting to happen. 

Sanji’s first love played the violin so beautifully it felt like he was playing Sanji’s very own heartstrings. Each note vibrated inside him with a longing that energized and frightened him. The boy he loved made the cruelty of Sanji’s life feel meaningful. By the time Sanji had turned thirteen he was already a talented cook, with a sophisticated sense of taste and an understanding of complimenting flavor profiles. Cooking was like romance, he imagined, and he wanted to know romance so terribly. The hollow seed in his heart that was planted when his mother died grew like a hungry void, and he longed to fill it, or feed it, to suppress that agonizing sense of loss. He felt, with each note of that violin, that void was being filled. But when he turned to that young man, heart open, feelings bared, he learned that love between boys was not something to share, not something to speak of, not something to be proud of. How badly he had been rejected. How badly he had lost his only friend. And from that loss, a spiral of losses, the ensuing humiliation, his father’s rage, and in a whirlwind of confusing feelings and events he suddenly went from Sanji Vinsmoke to nobody. Just another lost soul at the homeless shelter, cold and hungry. Hunger was the great equalizer. 

And through it all he wondered each day if things would have been different if she hadn’t died. If only she hadn’t died. If only his mother was there to love and protect him from his father’s wrath, would she have kept him safe, would he have remained at the estate? Would he have ever met Zeff or sailed around the world with him? What would have become of him. Did things truly work out for the best? Did he have to lose everything before he could become something?

The questions had no tangible answers. But if it was true that his life and success was built on losses, when would it end? How much loss was enough, how much grief and bereavement would he have to continue suffering?

Sanji rolled over in bed, forcing himself to escape the tangle of sheets and comforting warmth.  _ How much longer do I have to be alone _ .

He stalked to the bathroom and splashed his face with water, leaning over the sink heavily, eyes closed and unwilling to move.

He could hear footsteps from beyond the bathroom and a figure appeared in the open doorway. Sanji looked over, tiredly, at his roommate standing shirtless before him.

Zoro was unable to look Sanji in the face. He stood, staring at a far corner of the bathroom, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and spoke softly, “I’m going out again tonight. So you don’t have to cook me dinner.”

Sanji’s heart sank deeper into the void. He simply closed his eyes and turned his head back down to face the sink he was leaning on. He didn’t have the energy to come up with a witty retort and the silence was stifling. Zoro felt the weight of this silence heavily and turned away from the chef, unsure of what else he could say.

 

Zoro too had awakened with a heavy heart. Distant memories weighed down on him with guilt, and he felt the impurity of his existence seeping into the world around him, seeping into his blameless roommate. He felt poisonous. The dirtiness of the night before, his date with the red-haired stranger, the lascivious kiss, his actions in the shower to lewd thoughts of his roommate; since when had he become so corrupted?

A part of him, in that moment, wanted so strongly to take the chef in his arms, to smother him with the pent up affection that had grown wildly out of control within him. Another part of him wanted to escape. To never have to face the chef, never to expose him to the dirtiness of his desires.

Sanji was spent, and it was only the morning. The exhaustion of reliving painful memories in his sleep paired with the cruel reality of his loneliness enhanced by Zoro’s recent revelation was all but too much for him to take. He hoped that escaping into the world of his restaurant, immersing himself in his work, would clear his head and his heart of the dark cloud that hung over him. 

But at work Sanji’s thoughts were so preoccupying that it interfered with his concentration. His self-loathing had climbed up out of him like a beast in hibernation. He hadn’t felt this disgusted with himself in years, not since the early years of struggling with his identity. He thought he had come to an acceptance, even pride for what he was. But it was a constant struggle, to be proud of something that so many other men regarded with disgust. He was a homosexual. He knew in his heart of hearts that it was nothing to be ashamed of. But in this moment he felt the awful realization that he was every man’s worst nightmare - the gay roommate with dirty intentions. He felt like a predator in another man’s home. He couldn’t live in his own apartment in peace without feeling like his existence was a violation to his roommate. He felt that he’d sullied the sanctity of their apartment with his nature. This feeling of disgust was a familiar one he’d battled for years in his youth. He hated feeling it again now, he hated the confusion and vulnerability Zoro made him feel. 

 

Zoro found himself distracted at work as well. His clever students pried while he attempted to teach them throwing and falling techniques. After being thrown by Carrot and demonstrating a proper fall, the swordsman took a little longer than usual to right himself.

“What’s up Sensei, you look like you had a rough night?” quipped the blonde girl, bouncing on her toes as usual.

Zoro groaned, straightening up and standing to his feet replying “It’s nothing. Good throw Carrot, but you want a lower center of balance.” His students had started calling him sensei after Sanji had come to their class that day. He didn’t mind, of course, but he was unaccustomed to that term of reverence and respect being directed towards him. His sensei’s back in Japan were all much wiser and more experienced than himself, he felt worlds apart from them and unworthy of being considered any kind of sensei.

“Maybe he had a bad date,” commended one of the other girls in the class with a sly grin. Carrot seemed to like this suggestion and ran with it.

“Sensei went on a date yesterday?”

Zoro could only stare at the girls with a dumbfounded expression and an awkward blush, which seemed to confirm their hypothesis.

“Sensei was on a date! Sensei was on a date!”

_ Women’s intuition! Scary! _

The swordsman moved swiftly and threw both girls to the matted floor. “Never lose your composure in a fight, don’t let yourselves get distracted. Those falls were terrible, if there weren’t mats on the floors you might even have been injured.”

“ _ Sensei, _ ” the girls whined. 

“Do you think she’s cute, Sensei’s date?” One girl asked from her position on the floor.

“What? Don’t you think he went with Sanji?” Carrot retorted.

“Okay that’s enough,” Zoro said, about to loose his own composure at the terrifying intuition of these girls.

He should have been excited for his second date tonight, but the apprehension Zoro felt was far from giddy anticipation. The only thing that kept him looking forward to the night’s events was the prospect of getting in that ring for a good fight. Having watched the competitors from the night before, he could tell there was a mix of skill levels. He wondered who he’d be up against, perhaps he’d end up fighting his date - that wasn’t an altogether unappealing prospect. He should just get over himself and enjoy the night, maybe with enough alcohol he could drown the uncomfortable feeling of guilt that had settled in his gut and just enjoy the date for what it was. He just had to tear his mind off his roommate. If only he could forget about Sanji, he’d be able to get back into his routine without feeling like some kind of animal, like he was doing something inherently wrong.

The evening rolled around without incident. Zoro was gone before the chef had even arrived home, to both Zoro’s guilt and relief. When he opened the door of Ichiji’s ride, his date’s excitement was palpable. The energy rolling off of the red-head in waves was almost overwhelming. Zoro sensed that raw, testosterone fueled anticipation of physical satisfaction that made him wonder whether Ichiji was thinking of the fights to come or the possibility of taking Zoro home with him for a night of passion. Zoro wasn’t ready to face that kind possibility, but perhaps after a night of alcohol and fighting it would be exactly the kind of release he would need to stave off the uncomfortable feelings that had been creeping into his psyche of late. 

Sanji had come home from work to find his apartment empty. This was nothing new, he had lived alone for years, but somehow the emptiness of his apartment this night weighed on him heavily, knowing that the missing person, the man of his affections, was away entertaining some other person, enjoying their company, while Sanji was left alone. He had grown so accustomed to their nightly dinners. Their private dates. He had taken for granted the man’s presence, and now he was faced with the bitterness, the ugliness inside him, he had to let it out. There was only one place for him to go on nights like this.

* * *

 

The club was vibrating with music, dancing, lust, and bloodlust. A red-haired man led his date to the private booth that they had shared the night before and ordered an abundance of drinks, settling in immediately next to Zoro to lean in close to him and talk in his ear.

“Friday nights are always the best nights, there will be even stronger fighters here than yesterday.”

“You better not get your ass kicked,” Zoro retorted.

Ichiji threw his head back in laughter, relishing in the feeling, then leaned into Zoro and pulled on his earrings with his teeth. “That will _ never _ happen.”

The man’s confidence was spilling off of him. Zoro wondered where all that confidence came from, and wondered if he had the same confidence that he would get Zoro into his bed. 

The first few fights were uninteresting, as the stronger fighters were always saved for later in the night. Zoro quickly filled his body with enough alcohol to quiet his mind and settle him into a comfortable buzz. He didn’t acknowledge the sloppy kisses his date left on his neck and shoulder, as he was preoccupied by analyzing the fights below. But the physical contact was not unwanted, and as the night grew on he found the touches to be a pleasant addition to the experience. 

Ichiji and Zoro went back and forth with their observations of the fight, Zoro keeping his hands to himself while his date barely restrained himself from fully molesting the swordsman. 

“Zoro you’re such a tease,” Ichiji growled into his date’s ear.

“I haven’t done anything,” Zoro replied calmly.

“ _ Exactly. _ ”

Zoro chuckled, “I’m not into being touchy feely in public”

“Shy?” the red-haired man teased.

“Nah”

“I can’t wait to get you in private.”

Ichiji wasn’t affectionate in a womanly way, he was demanding, hungry, and assertive. If Zoro were a lesser man he might have been devoured, but the swordsman’s practiced stoicism was unwavering in the face of Ichiji’s distractions. 

Soon enough, a young woman came to their table to take Ichiji away for his fight. Zoro was partially relieved, though he had to admit, the affections were satisfying to his body in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. He hadn’t been physical with another person in so long that he found the touching and kissing to be revitalizing. Brain buzzing with the comfortable warmth of alcohol, and body tingling from the sensation of his date’s hands, he was beginning to think he wouldn’t mind going for a little more action tonight. The booming voice of the announcer jolted Zoro out of his thoughts. 

“ _ DO WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU TONIGHT _ ” As the announcer spoke, the floor seemed to vibrate slightly, but not from the sound. In the center of the ring, a small hole opened and something came rising out of the floor. A pole? Were they going to bring in a dancer?”

_ “Joining us tonight is everyone’s favorite! He said he needed to burn off some steam and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. Fighting FOUR opponents simultaneously, _ ”

Zoro looked out at the ring incredulously. Four on one? Now that sounded interesting. The pole still threw him for a loop though.

_ “And here he comes, the man, and let me tell you, this guy knows how to dress like a man, that’s right, the undefeated, here in the flesh - or should I say, in the suit, the man, the legend, Blackleg!” _

And from the corner of the ring Zoro watched stunned, the roaring crows fading into the disance, as a tall man with a familiar gait sauntered to the center of the ring to lean on the pole, blonde hair tousled casually in his face, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Sanji Black, head chef of the Baratie, stood in the center of the fight club ring like he owned the place, and Zoro could only look on stupefied.

Four large, muscular men, lunged towards the lean chef who merely stood in the center of the ring, casually lighting a cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the oncoming threat. 

_ Move! _

Zoro found himself on the edge of his seat, urging his roommate to get off his ass and do something before he was pummeled to a pulp. When it seemed like the men would be on him, Sanji jumped, five feet in the air vertically, grabbed the pole and spun, feet smashing into the oncoming barrage of men with a ferocity that sent them careening backwards.

The ensuing fight could barely be called a fight, it was a dance. The moves that Sanji used were like nothing Zoro had ever seen. He had considered himself a well-rounded martial artist, but in that moment the the dearth of untapped knowledge hit him with an intensity that stirred and inspired and frightened him all at once. There was an entire world of unexplored fighting techniques dancing before him in the most tantalizing way. And those beautiful, long legs swinging powerfully, weapons in their own right, had Zoro entirely entranced. All thoughts of Ichiji had vanished from his brain. Everything in his head was Sanji. All this time, this other dimension to the cook had existed that Zoro had been completely oblivious to. In all of their fights, in all of their arguments, in all of their conversations, he hadn’t even scratched the surface, and it left him reeling with the thought of just how little he knew of this man he lived with, this man he had such strong feelings towards. 

Sanji leapt into a back handspring and sent one leg plummeting down into an inescapable axe kick that knocked one man out cold. As soon as shoe hit floor it slid around in a continuous, fluid movement, sweeping back up again and into an arching crescent kick, which spun out into a flying roundhouse. The incredible fluidity of those movements, the innate flexibility, the natural ease with which each impossible action was performed so effortlessly, Zoro’s heart was pounding, eyes fixed on the man in front of him with an urgent longing to see more, to know more, to feel more. Desires welled up in him like bubbles in a beer, fizzing up his sides and overflowing.

“Excuse me, Mr. Roronoa?”

The polite voice cut through the wildly cheering crowd and Zoro’s dazed thoughts.

“You’re fight will be soon, please come with me.”


	12. Oh Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So updates have been slowing down to every couple of days, I’ll probably be updating once a week for a while as things are getting busy at home… I’ve started working on some other fics that I’d love for you all to check out in the meantime. But I could really use an editor or beta reader to help me with the writing process. I’d prefer someone with some experience, or maybe writing experience. Comment or send me a private message if you’re interested please! 
> 
> I want you all to know how much I truly appreciate the comments and feedback, it really makes this worthwhile!

Zoro didn’t want to take his eyes off the spectacular scene below. Sanji had wiped the floor with the four men and was casually standing amidst the carnage smoking his cigarette as if it was the most mundane thing in the world. The young lady who worked at the club took Zoro’s hand and lead him to a locker room behind the pit.

“When you’re all set you can go to the wings and watch the fighting from there before you go on,” she explained with a smile.

There were two locker rooms behind the pit to allow both competitors to prepare for their fight without running into each other. No one else occupied the space and Zoro noted that Ichiji must have been sent to the other locker room. Having arrived at the club ready to fight, the swordsman had no need to change, so he made his way to the end of the locker room that opened into a dark corridor where the sounds from the club reverberated off the walls. The corridor lead directly into the fighting pit, but there was a stretch of hallway with dark tinted windows that allowed Zoro to stand and watch the fight without being seen. He reached the window just in time to see the pole lowering back into the floor as the emcee announced the next fight. 

Sanji remained standing languidly in the ring and Zoro realized with apprehension that the next fight was Ichiji’s, meaning his date was about to go head-to-head with his roommate. This could get messy… Especially when Sanji finds out that Zoro is here.

_ “We saw him take down the Candyman yesterday! He’s back again for more, but does he have what it takes to defeat the unbeatable Blackleg? Give it up for Sparking Red!” _

Zoro could hear the crowd hollering wildly as Ichiji sauntered out onto the floor. As Sanji looked up to regard his opponent a dark cast crossed his face. The change in atmosphere was so severe Zoro’s hackles rose from behind the window as he watched tension build in Sanji’s body. The cook lifted a hand to his mouth and took his cigarette, then pointed towards his opponent with it, snarling in thinly veiled fury.

“ _ You. _ ”

The intonation sent a shiver down Zoro’s spine, and by Ichiji’s stance he could tell that the man was also affected, but he remained poised with a cocky smirk, replying, “You.”

Zoro stood in stunned silence at the realization that these two men knew each other, getting the sinking feeling that things were about to get really bad, really fast.

The crowd started muttering as the announcer went off,  _ “Looks like they know each other, things are getting heated in the ring! What kind of rivalry do we have here?” _

The red-haired man took a casual step forward, hands in his pockets, and said with a loud, sneering voice, “Who would have expected, the infamous Blackleg is my sweet baby brother.”

_ “WHAT A TURN OF EVENTS” _ The announcer and the crowd responded dramatically,  _ “It’s a soap opera in here! Sibling rivalry! It doesn’t get better than this folks!” _

From his vantage point on the sidelines, Zoro stood in utter disbelief as the blood seemed to drain from his body.  _ It doesn’t get any worse than this. _ If he had his facts right, the man before him was Sanji’s estranged brother. The estranged brother from the abusive family that disowned Sanji and left him homeless at the age of 13 to fend for himself. And Zoro was currently on his second date with that brother. Forget the part where Zoro was about to be outed as queer to his straight roommate, for whom Zoro had strong unreciprocated romantic feelings towards, that didn’t even scratch the surface of all that was bad about this situation. It was a disaster. He was currently on a date with only the worst possible human being from Sanji’s past. 

He should have known there was something off about Ichiji, but he would never have guessed he was Sanji’s brother. Their last names were different, their hair color was different, but their facial features were eerily similar. 

Out on the ring Sanji immediately took the offensive, charging at his brother with the raging fury of years of pent up loathing. Ichiji was quick on his feet, dodging fast and returning every kick with a jab. But Sanji’s onslaught was relentless, one kick flew into the next, spun into the next, nonstop and without leaving any openings for Ichiji to get through, forcing the man to brace himself for impact as a skull-crushing axe-kick sent the red-head sprawling to the floor. But Ichiji was quick to recover and maintained an unsettling, cruel smile on his face.

“What’s wrong little Sanji, that all you got?”

Sanji’s response was snarled so venomously he didn’t even sound like himself.

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing here?”

The red head only laughed and replied by hurling a thunderstorm of blows in Sanji’s direction.

Zoro was both horrified and enthralled. As much as he felt the pangs of distress at the current situation, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the two expert fighters in front of him.

Ichiji fought with military precision, intuitive, calculated blows and oppressive, unyielding force. Sanji fought like a turbulent waterfall after a heavy rain, unrelentingly powerful, fluidly crashing with stone and flowing naturally with the waves of emotion that fueled him. What captivated Zoro’s attention was the completely unique style which avoided the use of Sanji’s hands. All the power and balance was concentrated into those long, swift, and powerful legs. With the blows that he parried and blocked with his shins they must have been made of steel, and he followed through one such block with a forward thrust of the knee that caught Ichiji in the gut. Even members of the audience could feel the gut-wrenching blow. Ichiji doubled over, and for a second it seemed like Sanji had won, but in a flash the man sprung up with an uppercut that caught even Sanji off guard, sending him stumbling backwards. 

“Come on Sanji, use your hands,” the red-head jeered.

“Never, you filthy bastard”

The announcer chimed in,  _ “Strong words from the undefeated Blackleg. He never uses his hands, he never needs to!”  _

The physical toll on the both of them was beginning to show. Their moves were slowing, the fight was dragging on with neither of them gaining the upper hand. It was time for Sanji to whip out his secret moves. He lashed out with a high-arching crescent kick - fast, but Ichiji ducked down as Sanji’s foot brushed over his hair. But this was just the feint, as the leg came back around he dropped his torso, continuing to spin 180 degrees, transferring the momentum to his hands as they touched down on the ground. He was now in a full handstand and the momentum was whipping him around 360 degrees, he was a whirlwind of legs and the kick came out of nowhere. There was no dodging, no guarding against the intensity of the blow, Ichiji went flying to the other end of the ring. Sanji’s legs spun down, unravelling gracefully despite having just delivered a devastating kick. Sanji walked over to his brother, laying on his back and gasping for breath, and pulled a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. He loomed over the crumpled form of the red-head as he tapped a cigarette out of the box, pulling it out with a pair of slender, steady fingers, and pointed it towards his brother, speaking in a low growl.

_ “Get out of my city.” _

The audience was silent for a second, then they went wild. The announcer was screaming into the microphone. Only Sanji could hear his brother cough up the words “this is only the beginning” before he was carried out of the ring.

Zoro stood on the sidelines breathless. He was still replaying that final attack in his head, analyzing it, but he could barely wrap his head around the perfection of that fluid, coordinated move. Sanji was magnificent, and a buzz of excitement was stirring in his gut, until he realized what was about to happen. 

Sanji wasn’t leaving the ring. He walked in a slow circle around the pit, smoking his cigarette, while it dawned on Zoro that his moment of confrontation with his roommate was about to come to a head. A mix of titillation and dread filled him as he contemplated dropping out of the fight before Sanji realized what was going on between Zoro and his brother. But Zoro  _ wanted  _ to fight Sanji. Every muscle in his body was raring to throw itself at the artful fighter. Consciously he knew the situation was a disaster, but after seeing that fight, how could he  _ not _ want to throw his body at the man in front of him, in more ways than one. Besides, if he dropped out of the fight now he’d have to pay a significant fee, which all but decided the matter.

The crowd was still riled up when the announcer came back on. 

_ “Wasn’t that something! Wouldn’t expect any less from our own Blackleg! We’ve got another newbie here tonight, they shipped him all the way from Japan. They call him, The Swordsman!” _

And with that, Zoro stepped out of the ring sheepishly running his hands through his hair, glancing up to catch Sanji’s dumbstruck eyes. 

_ “And look at him, he’s built like a tank!” _

The crowd’s cheers grew louder as the swordsman stepped into the ring, unsure of how to meet Sanji’s eyes. His roommate simply stared at him baffled and uttered, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

Slowly the gears fell into place and realization dawned on Sanji as a distressed, distraught, and resentful look passed over him. 

“Did you come here with  _ him _ ?”

Zoro could only look down, heavy with the shame of having come to this place with a person from Sanji’s painful past. He didn’t see the dismayed look on Sanji’s face, that fleeting cast of hopelessness and loss that was soon replaced with anger and betrayal.

_ “Looks like these two know each other too! What kind of treat are we in for? A falling out a friends? A lover’s quarrel!!”  _ the announcer was loving the drama, and the audience was loving it too.

Sanji had just about heard enough from the emcee and turned towards the commentator booth furiously shouting, “SHUT UP,” before turning back to Zoro, gears still spinning in his head.

Zoro had been out, on dates. Tonight Zoro was on a date. Except he’s here. And Ichiji is here. So Zoro was on a date here, with his brother.

Sanji’s face darkened. Zoro could tell that his roommate had connected the dots, and a second later the chef was coming AT him with murderous intent.

Normally Zoro was on top of his game, but the swirl of emotions he was feeling right now had the swordsman on a roller coaster. The guilt and shame had cut him deep, the shock at seeing Sanji, paired with the excitement of seeing him fight, and now, seeing the blond rushing towards him with no inhibition, it all left Zoro’s brain struggling to find the right emotion. Which left Zoro’s little brain free to conclude that a sweaty sanji rushing towards him was pretty close to Zoro’s wildest fantasy. Minus, of course, the intense rage and bloodlust radiating from the man’s body. But damn, despite the terrifying look on Sanji’s face, he was still a fucking vision, blonde hair whipping behind him as he darted towards Zoro with focused intensity, Zoro probably would have taken just about anything Sanji was about to deliver. Fortunately his fighting instincts were a little sharper than his lovestruck, luststruck desires, and he was able to guard just in time to save himself from a destructive kick to chest.

Zoro didn’t have a second to breath, it was a non stop barrage of blows. The guilt was still hitting him in waves too as he registered just how bad it was that he had been on a date here with Sanji’s brother. His heart wasn’t fully in the fight, but he was keeping up somehow. And Sanji was just phenomenal. The way he moved was breathtaking, elegant. Being on the receiving end of it, seeing the moves first hand and up close, it was downright _ moving _ . The moves were completely unique. Zoro tried to pinpoint them as capoeira, savat, tae kwan do, and other flavors of various martial arts. The swordsman was totally geeked out, he was in awe, he was in martial arts nerd heaven being presented with something totally new and brilliantly inventive and utterly fantastic. Sanji was just a visionary. Without even using his hands, his movements were balanced, graceful, connected, and devastating. The power behind every move and the way the momentum of one attack fueled the next so that no movement was wasted was incredible. Fighting him was an exhilarating dance. All of this, the sweat, the pain, the excitement, the sounds Sanji made and the way his body moved, it was like a dream. Zoro was absorbed in the moment, until Sanji stopped dead in his tracks. The blond was angry, irate,  _ furious _ .

_ “Fight me.” _

A chill went down Zoro’s spine. Sanji was furious because Zoro wasn’t giving his all, he was distracted. Sure he had been putting up a good fight, enough of a fight to keep the average person on edge, but Sanji had noticed that Zoro wasn’t completely in the game, and he took it personally. Zoro wasn’t getting out of this without going all-out.

Looking down at his feet, Zoro let out a deep breath before raising his head, eyes alight with excitement and drunk on adrenaline, and said with sincere awe, “you fight good.” His face was plastered with a genuinely thrilled smile.

Sanji flushed red, possibly from rage, or possibly from embarrassment, that this buffoon in front of him who had done everything wrong and was getting a beating for it was simply standing there with a goofy look, unable to hide his genuine delight at the fact that Sanji “fought good.” He had to bite away a smile that tugged at the corner of his lips and pulled at his heart.

Zoro came at him no holds barred, and the fight had finally begin. 

The swordsman was no expert in hand-to-hand combat, but he was no amateur by any means and had catlike fighting instincts. He came at Sanji with a raw enthusiasm that was almost vulgar, throwing himself at the man, grasping at the legs that came flying at him, not giving his opponent a second to catch his breath. He knew that Sanji relied on his long legs, so he would bring the fight in close where Sanji would be unable to wind up and throw the powerful, flying kicks. Zoro flung himself bodily into his roommate unabashedly, grabbing the man and making to wrestle with him, savoring the panted breaths and sweat-slicked contact that was desperate and destructive. Zoro fought to keep his mind chaste as he struggled against the writhing blonde.

The were in a deadlock, chests pressed up against each other, forearms at the other’s throat. Their faces were so close they could smell the other’s skin and sweat and it went to their heads, Zoro was not the type to lose his head in a fight but all of this, the fighting, the proximity of their bodies, it was just a dream for him. If he was crushing on Sanji before all of this, he might as well be in the throes of full-blown passionate love, because this was everything. 

“I’ve got you,” Zoro grinned, knowing that there was no escape from his overwhelming physical strength. But Sanji was cool-headed. He was still angry, confused, frustrated, but he knew what he was here for and he had a reputation to uphold. He saw the smile on Zoro’s face and knew he had him bested, mentally. He gave a hard shove while simultaneously slamming his foot down on top of Zoro’s, causing his opponent’s grasp to falter and creating enough space between them for him to jerk his knee up, smashing it into Zoro’s guts. The swordsman keeled over, winded, blown away, shaken to his core, or his spleen. The crowd went wild. This of course was a perfectly legal move, in fact this was the kind of fight ring where Sanji could have  kneed him in the nuts without penalty, so he viewed this really as a merciful service. 

_ “AND WE HAVE A WINNER! THE UNDEFEATED BLACKLEG SERVING UP A KNEECAP TO THE GUTS!! THE GUTS BUSTER!!”  _ And Sanji smiled a weary smile while Zoro wheezed, looked up at him with an agonized lopsided half-smile.

Sanji maintained his cool facade, waving at the crowd and then striding out of the pit and into the adjacent locker room. As he walked in, he came crashing down from the high of adrenaline and back to reality, making his heart clench and his mind reel. This night was so fucked up. He sent a furious kick to an innocent wooden bench, splintering it, and anxiously pulled out a cigarette.

_ Fuck. _

The realizations of the night fell upon him like a heavy rain pelting down. His estranged, deranged family was in town, for some god forsaken reason. And the man he wanted, the man he’d been living with and fantasizing about, was dating his piece of shit brother. What a fucking mess. It’s like Sanji’s world had come crashing down around him in the span of one night. His thumb, shaking with frustration, struggled at his lighter until he finally managed to light the cigarette in his mouth. He took a trembling breath, willing himself to calm down, and then exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He recalled the haunting words of his brother, “This is only the beginning,” which weighed heavily on him, along with the agonizing knowledge that his previously-thought-to-be-straight, attractive, and mysterious roommate was actually not straight and had gone on multiple dates with someone who could best be described as his arch-nemesis. This was some kind of soap-opera level shit and Sanji was not having it.

Zoro went back to his locker room, a little worse for wear, and heard a splintering _ crack _ from beyond the wall. Sanji was pissed. Reality smashed into him like a ton of bricks as he realized just how badly he had fucked up. Of all the people he could have dated behind Sanji’s back, he only chose the worst possible guy.

“So you got your ass kicked too,” a familiar voice came from the doorway.

Zoro looked up with dread as his date for the evening walked in, still wearing his usual smirk. The swordsman could only laugh awkwardly, not sure of how to say ‘ _ you are probably the worst possible person who could have come into my life.’ _

Ichiji strolled towards Zoro’s form, sitting on the bench, and reached out to rake a hand through the soft green hair. Zoro flinched at the touch and was about to pull away when the door to the locker room was kicked open with a loud smash.

“ _ You. _ ” 

A calmly irate Sanji stood in the doorway as the door swung painfully on its hinges. 

Sanji strolled over to the couple, willfully ignoring his brother’s sneering figure, and grabbed Zoro roughly by his shirt.

“You’re coming home with me.”

A flustered Zoro stood instinctively, biting back a snarky reply and shaking off the chill of excitement that Sanji’s words stirred in him. Sanji didn’t mean it  _ that _ way, and Zoro looked down like a child about to be scolded.

Ichiji was wearing a sinister, condescending glare and began to chuckle under his breath.

“Oh this is  _ perfect _ . I didn’t realize I was playing with my little brother’s darling pet. How heart-breaking,” he laughed mockingly.

“ _ Shut your shit hole _ ,” Sanji retorted scornfully, rounding on his brother with barely contained rage. “Why the  _ fuck  _ are you in my city.”

“Oh, the whole family is here little brother,” the red-head jeered, “we’re gonna make you regret crashing my date.”

Zoro visibly tensed, and Sanji snarled back, overflowing with contempt “So now you’re fucking gay, is that right?”

The older brother laughed condescendingly, “Hardly,” he shrugged, “Sex is sex, I could care less about the technicalities.”

“Oh but I’m sure father cares,” Sanji spat, physically shaking from emotion.

Ichiji tilted his head and narrowed his eyes with a leering smile, “Daddy doesn’t care what I stick my dick into.” He said it as if it were something obvious, as if what he did and what Sanji did were worlds apart, nothing to be compared. Ichiji fucking men was not an act of homosexuality, it was an assertion of power.

The shaking stopped. A resigned understanding passed over Sanji as he realized this argument didn’t matter. They were trash, all of them, and he wanted nothing to do with them. He turned on his heels, grabbing Zoro by the sleeve and exited the locker room.

Just as Sanji slammed the door behind him, his brother shouted one last taunt, 

“He was mine first.”

Sanji’s grip tightened on the swordsman’s shirt as he wordlessly dragged his roommate out of the club and to his car.

Zoro frowned at Ichiji’s last comment. Was it about him? Because he was nobody’s, not now, not ever. But the comment seemed to rub Sanji the wrong way.

 

The car ride back was uncomfortably quiet. Zoro replayed the chilling argument between the brothers in his head, confused and distressed. The sociopathic vibes Zoro had been getting from his date were definitely legitimate, as the man was clearly fucked up in the head. His view of his own sexuality was unhealthy to say the least. But what bothered Zoro most was the way Sanji had asked if his brother was gay. It had been asked so maliciously. It sounded like Sanji either really hated gay people, or he hated his brother for being interested in other men, which seemed to Zoro like more or less the same thing. The swordsman wondered if Sanji’s opinion of him would worsen now that his roommate knew his sexual preference. The tension between them in the car was stifling evidence that something certainly things would change between them, but neither of them attempted to break the silence as they didn’t have the right words to say.

It wasn’t until they entered the building, got to their apartment, and closed the door behind them that Sanji exploded.

“My  _ BROTHER _ though? Of  _ ALL _ people?

The sudden outburst promoted Zoro to snap back “ _ I didn't know. _ I didn't know you even had a brother!”

“Of course not. Your don't know shit about me!” Sanji screamed back, voice audibly cracking to his dismay. 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” Sanji turned away and leaned heavily on the kitchen countertop.

Zoro was at a loss for words. The pain on Sanji’s face was palpable. He wasn’t just angry, he was  _ hurt.  _ And Zoro had no fucking clue what to do about it. It only made him feel like a terrible, awful, disgusting human being for making his roommate feel this way, the roommate which he secretly cared for so deeply.

Finally Sanji spoke up again, “You know what, forget about it. As far as you know I don’t even have a family. I  _ don't _ have a family.” He let out a heavy sigh, “I need a smoke.” And with that, Sanji walked past Zoro to the open the living room window to light a cigarette, steeling himself from the onslaught of emotions that were sure to follow him into his sleep and the coming days ahead.

Feeling utterly helpless and at a complete loss for what to do, Zoro could only stand in the middle of the apartment, heart so heavy it felt like a black hole in his chest. He felt worse than useless, and his mind was grinding through the past couple days trying to pick out exactly where he had gone wrong, and what he could have done instead that would have lead to something other than this. He went to the bathroom and threw the clothes off of himself in frustration before getting under the scalding water, trying to burn away his whole fuck up with Ichiji. The moment he fucked up was when he first met the man and though he looked like Sanji. Everything that followed was based on that foolish idea that the red-head might serve as some kind of replacement for the man that he actually desired. The minute he decided to go along with a cheap alternative he ruined things for both himself and for Sanji. 

Out in the living room the chef was mulling over the night’s conversations and left with one haunting, horrible question in his head. Did they fuck? Because he didn’t know if he could live with knowing that his sick, twisted brother had fucked the man he had been fantasizing about, the man he’d been haunted with thoughts of night and day. Just the thought of them sharing a bed, kissing, touching, being intimate with each other, it made him shudder with revulsion, it made him want to throw up. Maybe if he wasn’t such a fucking pussy and made a move on Zoro first things wouldn’t have ended up like this. He just prayed that they hadn’t fucked yet. That whatever sick thing they had going on between them had ended that night and that Zoro wouldn’t continue seeing his brother behind his back. He knew it was none of his business. He knew that Zoro’s private life was not something he had any right to control. But if his roommate had even the slightest bit of respect and compassion for him, he would know not to keep seeing Ichiji, he would do this for them. Sanji hated that fact that he was being a huge fucking cockblock to Zoro but he literally couldn’t stomach the thought of them fucking, it haunted him. A part of Sanji knew that he was in the wrong for wanting to control Zoro like this, for all he knew the couple could be fucking soul mates and Sanji could be the bad guy trying to get between them. Ugh. Everything was just awful. He felt so useless, so pathetic. 

Thin trails of smoke curled out of the window as Sanji gazed out at the city lights. A blinking light caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he glanced over to see his answering machine flashing. Damn, he had almost forgot he even had the thing, he barely used the landline anymore. It probably wasn’t anything important, but perhaps whatever it was would get Sanji’s mind off of the day’s events. He walked over to the answering machine to play the one new message that had been saved on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you probably noticed by now but I love the motif when two characters point at each other and say “YOU” lmao.


	13. Struggle, Strife

_ “Sanji… It’s me, Reiji. Please listen, I know it’s been a long time, but please call me back, it’s very important… I love you.” _

Staring at the answering machine in stunned silence, Sanji nearly dropped his lit cigarette onto the carpet. Fuck. He wasn’t expecting a message from his past. The painful memories of earlier that night were still fresh, and waves of memories from his unforgotten past life were flooding into him unwanted. The face of his loathsome brother whom he’d seen just hours earlier, now ten years older than he’d last remembered, had him gritting his teeth. 

The message was two days old according to the machine, meaning if he had been here to answer the damn phone he would have at least known that his family was around. Instead he was caught off guard and Ichiji came storming back into his life like a runaway train, blasting apart his resolve and composure as if the carefully crafted life that Sanji had built himself was made of glass. He was not going to let these people back into his life after they had cast him away like so much garbage. He was happy now, he would not let his toxic family ruin that. They deserved nothing, he owed them nothing.

But his sister, his sister was never particularly bad to him.  She never hurt him in the way the brothers had. While she never offered outright support, never defended him, and wasn’t a comforting, loving presence in his life, she did have her moments. She was cold and indifferent most of the time, but she looked after Sanji in her own way. She had been a steadying presence. She looked out for him quietly, warned him subtly if father was in a bad mood, or if the boys were planning something dreadful. Her sharp, perceptive eyes, and cunning wit was underestimated by her family and she used that to her and Sanji’s advantage when she could, she knew how to do things that would please father, or appease her brothers in such a way that they’d be less inclined to take out their frustrations on Sanji. And Sanji was grateful. He could never resent her the way he resented the males of the family. There was compassion in her, hidden just beneath the surface, visible only through her well planned actions that had shielded Sanji from excessive abuse. And she had been there the day Sanji had been disowned. She was the one who brought the chauffeur that took him away. But she had slipped past the indifferent, obedient man that drove the family and summoned the part-timer who had proved himself a compassionate man. She made sure that the man who was entrusted with Sanji’s life was humane and would take him some place where he could survive, like a shelter, rather than dump him in the middle of nowhere. It was a small act that had tremendous consequences. If he hadn’t been brought to the shelter anything could have happened to him, and he might never have met Zeff and started his life anew. In many ways he owed his new life to his sister, through those small but carefully thought out actions she had taken on his behalf.

And now, after over a decade, she was calling him about something urgent. And it must truly have been urgent for her to go so far as to call him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Sanji picked up the phone and pressed “Call Back” on the machine. The phone rang for a brief moment before a feminine voice came through the line.

“Hello?”

“Reiji?” Sanji asked simply.

“Sanji.” 

The siblings let a moment of silence pass between them as the weight of ten years of radio silence was lifted before the older sister began speaking with urgency.

“I need to tell you, something serious is happening,” She paused for a moment, calculating where to begin before Sanji cut her off.

“The family’s in town.”

“You know?” Raiji replied though there was no surprise in her voice.

“I ran into Ichiji yesterday.”

“I see…”

Another moment passed while both pondered a myriad of questions until Sanji began again.

“What is going on? Why come all the way to New York?”

“It’s quite complicated… Father is expanding the tech empire, he wants to branch out into food science, do a merger...”

“So there’s a food company in New York he wants to buy out? But why bring the whole family?”

Reiji laughed cynically, “We can’t afford to buy it out.” 

“Must be a big company,” Sanji mused

“He wants to merge with Mama Charlotte’s.”

Sanji paused in disbelief before uttering “Wow.” 

Mama Charlotte’s was a food empire on par with Nestle, Hershey’s, and Pepsi Co. It was a humongous conglomerate in the food industry specializing in anything sweet - from baked goods to nutritional supplements, from candy to soda. It was owned by the Charlotte family, an extremely wealthy, influential, and expansive family with ties to just about everything, and the CEO was the ambitious and brutal “Mama” Charlotte herself.

Sanji continued cautiously, “Why would a tech giant want to merge with the food industry though?”

“Recently the company had been doing a lot of research into biotech and we recently branched into nutrition. You know I’m doing pharmaceuticals right? I honestly think father wants his hand in everything. The problem is the R&D costs are becoming problematic. With the kind of resources that Mama has we could expand the research department to cover more ground. And with our technology, patents, and specialized personnel in the biotech side of things we could dramatically improve the efficiency of Mama’s research and production endeavors, a win-win.” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sanji paused in consideration, “you sound like you like this idea.”

Reiji faltered. “Well, I don’t know, I’m in it whether I like it or not. From the company’s side of things, this merger would have more benefits than losses. But I don’t know. I have a weird feeling. And the problem isn’t exactly the merger itself,” she paused for a moment and continued guiltily, “it’s the way they want to go about it.”

“Honestly,” Sanji sighed, “I don’t really care. None of that has anything to do with me anymore."

Reiji’s reply was urgent, “It does though.”

“How?”

A muffled sound came from the end of the line as Reiji’s voice quieted, “Shit, someone’s coming, I’m not supposed to be talking to you.” More sounds could be heard on the other end of the line before she continued, “Basically father realized he has someone in the food industry already, someone he could offer to Mama.”

Voice darkening, Sanji replied, “What do you mean?”

“You.” Reiji answered simply.

Distantly a masculine voice could be heard on the other end of the line saying, “Reiji, who are you talking to?” before Reiji spoke rapidly in a hushed voice, “Dammit, Sanji, I have to go. I’ll be in touch, watch your back”

“Wait Reiji-”

“I love you”

The line went dead. Sanji leaned back against the wall heavily.  _ What the fuck?  _ A mix of emotions was roiling within him, paired with the exhaustion of the long, emotionally draining day. What did Raiji mean by “offer,” was their father really intending to offer Sanji up as some kind of sacrificial lamb? His fury was mounting. After all these years, that man, that dreadful, abusive piece of shit thinks he can traipse back into Sanji’s life like he owns it. Now that Sanji had worked his ass off to become a successful restaurateur, that man who had taken everything from him once thinks he can come back and give away everything he’d made for himself once again and offer it up like so much cake. Whatever the man’s plan was, there was no way in hell he would go along with it. His life was his own, no one else’s. He would never again be someone else’s play thing, to be manipulated and abused. 

A part of Sanji was tempted to call someone else in the crew to tell them the situation, but ultimately he decided against it. This was his personal business, and if his past wanted to come back to haunt him he’d deal with it himself. He’ll kick those bastards back to whatever hole they climbed out of without dragging anyone else into the mess. His past was his past. He had dealt with it once and he would deal with it again until no fragments of that unfortunate life remained to torment him.

* * *

The boy’s name was long forgotten. All Sanji could remember were the sweet singing notes of the violin he played. Achingly beautiful, he had heard it for the first time late in the afternoon, long after all the students had left the school. The young Sanji had a habit of staying late in the culinary arts room afterschool to prolong the time before returning home to abusive brothers and father. His mother was sick and he would cook up recipes by himself to bring to her in hopes of making that gentle smile last a little longer. It was one such evening after school hours that he heard it, the beautiful melody echoing through the quiet halls. The song was so sweet and melancholic, the young chef couldn’t stop his curiosity from getting the best of him. He followed the sound around the corner until he reached the door of a classroom. The door was ajar just slightly, enough that Sanji could peek inside with trembling curiosity. His heart nearly stopped at the vision.

A boy stood silhouetted by the light from the window, playing his violin passionately, light radiating around from the sun behind him. The rush of excitement that Sanji felt in that moment was so new and overwhelming that it sent him stumbling back, which caused enough of an interruption for the music to stop. Sanji froze for a second, then bolted. He ran down the hall, ran out of the school, and ran all the way home feeling alive for the first time in ages.

The next few days he would go to the music room after cooking and listen with a plate of food or snacks in his hand, always too nervous to go inside, until one afternoon. After the young chef had baked shortbread cookies to bring home to his mother, he walked down the hall to find that there was no music. Slightly disappointed, he crept to the familiar classroom and slowly opened the door to peer inside. As he glanced around he was met with shock when he saw the boy sitting atop a desk, violin in hand, waiting for him. Sanji was frozen in place as the other boy spoke to him for the first time.

“I knew you’d come.”

The voice was gentle, kind, and spoken with a friendly smile. In his fluster Sanji nearly dropped the plate of cookies. The boy laughed, breaking the tension between them, and they began to talk. They talked about the boys music, about Sanji’s cooking, about why they stayed late afterschool, talking and sharing the cookies between them, saving enough for Sanji’s mother to try.

Sanji came home feeling happy and lighthearted for the first time in a long time. Plate of cookies in hand, he went to his mother’s room only to be told that she was resting, and that she would no longer be able to eat the food Sanji made for her. The news stung. He had always looked forward to the joyful face his mother made when eating his food, and it hurt him to know that he would never be able to see that again, never be able to make her smile like that with his food, not until she got better. He wished with all his heart that she would recover, but it had been many years of her steadily declining health. The hours she spent awake each day had slowly dwindled to nothing. The nurses assured him that she was still present, that she could hear him, but he didn’t believe them. His heart was broken and he felt completely alone. He had no one left in the world to talk to. 

But the boy filled a hole in his heart. Sanji would come to the musical room after his cooking to share his treats and they would talk. He avoided talking about himself if he could, not wanting to say something sad and ruin the mood, but they always found things to talk about. At one point the young violinist began coming to the culinary arts room to practice his violin while Sanji cooked. It filled him with the most happiness he’d ever felt in his young life.  Often the boys didn’t speak, practicing their crafts and eating in comfortable wordless quiet.Those moments in the kitchen cooking food and listening to the violin were a happy escape from the troubles of his life.

When his mother died Sanji sat forlorn in the room unable to cook. The boy came and with a quiet understanding began practicing the violin as if nothing were amiss. He played it loudly, continuously, providing the sense of normalcy and privacy that allowed Sanji to cry, voice muffled by the beautiful music the crescendoed through the empty halls. The wordless comfort of the boy’s presence and his music eased the pain that was ripping him apart. And when the tears dried and his voice became hoarse, the boy continued playing until the sun set and the puffiness of Sanji’s reddened eyes could be concealed by the dark of the night. 

He grew closer to the boy in a way he’d never felt close to anyone before. Never having any close friends to speak of, Sanji didn’t understand the nature of his feelings that were, at times, overwhelming. So young, so vulnerable, And filled with so much feeling and so much love to give, but Sanji had no one to give it to. He poured his love into his cooking that was shared with the boy alone, and he listened to the violin that was played with as much love and passion. He interpreted their feelings to be the same, though he did not understand the nature of those feelings. The young cook, barely a teenager, was faced with feelings that overshadowed those of friendship. He longed for something more. There was a magnetic pull inside him, a desire he couldn't quite fathom in his youthful innocence, a desire that he felt towards the violinist. 

One afternoon while they sat side by side on the countertop enjoying Sanji’s food he felt it, that magnetic pull. The boy was smiling, looking at Sanji endearingly, and something in him pushed him to lean forward just enough that his lips brushed against the other boy’s.

They both pulled back instantly, shock on both of their faces, and Sanji hurriedly gathered his things, stuttered and apology, and ran out of the room. The boy wasn’t angry, his face merely read surprise as he watched his friend go.

And that was the beginning of the end.

The next day, Sanji sat alone in the culinary arts room. The violinist boy hadn’t come, and when Sanji went home he was faced with the fuming figure of his father. Father had gotten a call from another angry father about Sanji’s behavior.

Sanji felt no resentment towards the boy anymore. They were young and confused. For all he knew the boy could have truly loved him back. In all likelihood it was the parents who had forbidden the boy from seeing Sanji again. He couldn’t remember the boy’s name, wasn’t sure he’d even recognize him if they happened to cross paths again after so many years. He was grateful for the time they had spent together, as he was the one constant comfort that helped him get through his mother’s death. However it took Sanji a long time to come to terms with those feelings. For a while he did blame the boy. The regret, despair, and grief he felt from losing the boy and being betrayed had haunted him during his nights in the shelter. He wondered what his life would have been like if only he hadn’t foolishly tried to kiss him. Would they still be friends? Would he still have a home? He mourned the loss of his own life, his only friend, and of course, he always mourned the loss of his mother.

The past had been so painful, but it had made him strong and independent. He no longer had any regrets of his past. He no longer felt that pang of loss when thinking of what could have been. He occasionally wondered about the boy, if he was just confused like Sanji, if they might have been able to continue on in secret. It was a secret that was bound to be discovered though, and the ending was inevitable. Those early emotions greatly shaped Sanji’s behavior. His mother and even his sister who had shown compassion towards him had shaped the way he treated other women in his life. He projected his feelings towards his mother on the women around him. He himself had not been able to provide all the praise and comfort and joy that his mother, who had been so frail and loving, deserved. He passed that affection and tenderness that he had failed to provide to his mother to every woman he encountered, sometimes in excess, to ameliorate the guilt he felt for not being able to save her. On the other hand, his father and brothers had been cold, aggressive, and cruel. Even the boy he loved had betrayed him. This greatly shaped the way he approached other men. They were treated coldly, regarded with suspicion and distrust. Men were selfish and calculating in his experience, not generous and loving like his mother had been. Even the men he thought fondly of, perhaps especially the men he was attracted to were treated briskly and with distrust for their intentions. His learned behaviors towards men formed a protective wall that rose high and guarded him from both hurt and comfort. He had been betrayed enough to know that trust was not to be given lightly.

As he grew stronger he grew more wary. With his physical strength came the age and experience that taught him to steel himself. He was closed off. The few romantic relationships he had attempted had all failed because of his inability to open up to other men. The relationships were mostly physical and fleeting and unfulfilling. He was starved for affection but unwilling to accept it. He even tried having girlfriends multiple times, found himself seeking that motherly love and affection he was so starved for, but the relationships were empty and he was unable to physically, sexually respond to his partners in a way that fulfilled their needs. He had tried to turn himself straight many times to no avail, and had finally come to terms with his sexuality after many years of struggling with it. Finally comfortable with whom he was but never having had any meaningful relationships left him feeling incomplete, inadequate. Often he wondered if love was meant for him, or if it was all a sham, a myth created by lonely people to give them hope. If love was a myth then so be it, he would live his life to the fullest on his own, as he had done so far. But he couldn't help the slight ache in his heart at the thought of being alone for the rest of his life.

“ _ Sometimes I look at Robin and Franky, or Ace and Marco, and I think, that will never be me.” _

Zoro’s words rang true to him so deeply it stung. The thought of Zoro stung. He was terribly affected by the events of the day and found himself tossing and turning in bed long after dawn had broken.

When he finally found the strength to abandon hope of sleep he rolled out of bed to leave for work, weighed down by the stress of the previous night and the phone call with his sister. Everything was going to shit. But he wasn’t going to let that affect his work or the people around him. Fuck his fake family. Fuck his roommate. Sanji had his own life to live and he was going to live it, damn it.

Zoro woke up feeling like shit. The physical and emotional beating he had taken yesterday felt fresh on his mind and body, and he wasn’t about to take any more of it this morning. He waited until Sanji left the apartment to leave his bedroom, not wanting an altercation with the blonde. He dragged himself through the doorway to slowly cross the living room and look up at the white sword hanging regally on the wall. Sitting down cross-legged he sighed heavily, silently asking what he was meant to do, as if the sword or the soul it carried could provide him guidance. At least it provided him with a grounding sense of calm and peace of mind. Everything was small compared to Kuina’s sacrifice. Everything was shallow under that perfect blade. No wall was too hard to cut through, no water’s too deep to cross, no matter how torrential. The grounding calmness of that sword, Kuina’s steadfast soul, it kept things in perspective. 

* * *

When the shinai flew out of her hands Zoro truly couldn’t process what had happened. His body had been moving instinctively the whole fight with his mind lagging behind. It wasn’t until her voice passed through his ears that he realized he had won.

“You did it, Zoro!”

The voice was soft, but proud, so full of genuine happiness for the boy, yet her eyes were wet.

The bamboo made a clattering noise as it hit the hardwood floor and rolled to a stop. Zoro had finally reached this landmark that he had been working so hard towards, only to feel a strange melancholy now that he had achieved his goal.

“Kuina…”

She was wiping at her eyes, lips spread in a genuine smile that trembled under the weight of unspoken emotion.

The next time they sparred they shared no words about the previous night. Zoro was unable to repeat the performance and it had been several more nights before it happened again. This time there were no tears, Kuina’s smile was resigned, and Zoro didn’t understand its meaning.

It wasn’t until one starry night, barefoot on the grass, when Zoro had won again and both had fallen back onto the soft earth that the girl had shared her feelings.

“If I can’t do it. It has to be you.”

Zoro did not understand.

“I feel like, I feel like I’m dangerously close to peaking. The growth of my body just can’t keep up with the growth of my training, with my dreams. You’ve been improving so fast, I can tell you’re still improving, your body is growing stronger,” She paused, voice so sure and steady yet so close to breaking, “pretty soon I won’t be winning anymore.”

The boy had looked at her, disbelieving. The uncertainty, the vulnerability of the words coming from this girl he respected, admired so fiercely, had caught him completely off guard. The night air hummed with the singing of cicadas and the rustling of leaves.

“So if I can’t do it, it has to be you.”

He didn’t know what to say. He felt something in his chest tighten, he felt something that felt like fear well up in him at the idea of this girl he looked up to losing hope. He didn’t want to go on this journey without her. He wouldn’t. He refused.

“It will be me,” he said finally, “but not because you can’t.”

He wasn’t sure what power motivated him in that moment, but he reached a hand out next to him to take hers firmly. “I’m not doing this without you.”

He said it with finality, not exactly understanding the meaning behind his words. He lay there through the night, her hand entwined in his, as he listened to the shuddered breathing of the girl beside him, too strong to let herself cry. His eyes were fixed on the stars, ensuring her the privacy of the moment, and he swore there were more stars in that sky than any night before or after.

The purity of their love stayed with Zoro so intensely that no attraction he’d felt since bore any truth to him. The gentle intensity of their love and their innocence could never be surpassed by the shallow, physical, lustful desires that occasionally tainted him. The sheer goodness of her. That fiercely independent competitive ambition, that gentle, unwavering kindness, she was a manifestation of that pure white and gold katana she wore. Wado Ichimonji. The path of harmony and peace. Nothing he could do would ever live up to her purity. That childish innocence, forever preserved by her death, was something he could never return to. In his corrupted state, with his heart so bitter and shut off to the world, did he even deserve a love as pure and good as hers? Would they have even had a chance? If he had stayed there, laying in the grass without ever letting go, could time have just stood still for the both of them?

Somewhere down the line he had been corrupted. Where had he gone wrong? Zoro was so sure that he had been following the right path, pursuing his dream in an honorable, respectable way. But the past few days revealed a different side of himself, an impulsive, lewd, thoughtless side that had resulted in him hurting someone he had grown close to. It was hard for him to pinpoint where exactly he had messed up. Was all of this an unfortunate coincidental series of events or had Zoro been on the wrong path to begin with?

As he sat on the living room floor in front of that white sword of Kuina’s purity he felt weak. He wasn’t sure where to go from here and how to right the wrong that he had committed.

* * *

That night, Robin and Franky came over for dinner. Their dinner plans had been made a while back and their company helped ease the tension in the apartment, but the awkwardness between the roommates remained severe. Upon entering the apartment, Robin was acutely aware of the tension in the air, and surmised that something had occurred between the two men. Franky was his usual cheerful self and did his best to brighten the mood, but Zoro and Sanji refused to look at each other, much less speak. Dinner was passed in awkward conversation, as Sanji tried his best to be hospitable to his guests despite the circumstances.

When they had finished eating Franky tapped Zoro on the shoulder and pointed to the far wall of the living room.

“Zoro dude, is that a shelf of weights?”

“Oh, yeah,” the swordsman replied, glancing over at the shelf.

“Sweet, show me what you’ve got!” 

Franky cleverly drew Zoro to the other room to separate the roommates, having gotten the hint early on that things were going to stay awkward so long as they were in the same room together. Robin smiled at her husband’s intuitive action.

When they reached the living room Franky placed a large hand on one of the massive weights and looked over at Zoro.

“So you gonna talk to me about what’s going on dude?” Franky asked, getting right to the point. Zoro looked down, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I sorta fucked up bad.”

“That’s my man!” Franky laughed, clapping the rueful swordsman on the back. “Tell me about it?”

“So…” Zoro wasn’t quite sure where to start and how much he was comfortable saying. “This is messed up but… I went on a date with Sanji’s brother.”

“Shit,” the large man chuckled.

“Yeah. And we ran into Sanji.”

“Shit,” Franky drew a hand through his bright blue hair, offering Zoro a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.. But I didn’t know they were brothers.”

“Brother like, you know, his long lost arch nemesis, estranged family that disowned him ‘brother’?” 

“Yeah.”

Franky sighed, giving Zoro’s shoulder a squeeze before grinning, “Hell, you know what,  you guys just need to talk it out like a couple of bros. I’m sure he’ll understand that it was an innocent mistake.”

The swordsman grimaced, “He literally kicked my ass.”

The architect threw his head back in a laugh, “That’s Sanji! You really got your ass kicked by the chef!” 

Zoro scowled at Franky’s laughter.

“But that’s good, fight it out like a couple of guys, let off some steam, it’ll smooth things over.”

Zoro remained quiet, glancing down again and Franky picked up that there was something else going on. 

“What else?” the architect pried.

Zoro deflected the conversation about his own feelings towards the chef by offering the other issue at hand, “His whole family is in town.”

“Oh,” the blue haired man nodded thoughtfully, “That’s gonna stress him out.” He frowned, then elbowed Zoro in the side, “You guys just need to talk it out, or punch it out. I bet you both go head to head real well don’t you? How was fighting him?”

“Amazing.” Zoro’s words surprised even himself. He just hadn’t realized that the chef could fight, all this time he had thought he was just an ordinary guy, and then it turns out that not only could he fight, but he was fucking good, a fucking martial arts visionary.

Franky grinned, “Nami calls him the moneymaker. He’s the golden goose. You know he’s always sparring, you guys should fight some more, get acquainted with your fists, sometimes that’s the best way to communicate.”

The swordsman simply nodded his head in reply, unable to admit that his sexual attraction to the man would certainly get in the way of their getting physically acquainted. He had been completely distracted during their fight and he didn’t want a repeat performance of getting his ass kicked, though the competitive side of him was dying to get Sanji back.

“Hold on a sec, gotta use the bathroom,” Franky turned away and left Zoro to muse to himself. When the large man left the room Zoro could just barely make out some of the conversation between Sanji and Robin. He wasn’t trying to overhear them, but he happened to hear something that deeply unsettled him. 

The two were speaking quietly, Sanji explaining the events of the previous day while Robin listened thoughtfully.

“It just… I just can’t believe the bastard’s gay,” Sanji muttered. This had Zoro confused, as he wasn’t sure if the chef was talking about him or his brother.

“He can be gay and he’s still the heir to the fucking dynasty like it’s no big deal?I just can’t fucking believe it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sanji,” came Robin’s reply.

Zoro didn’t quite understand what it all meant, but it sounded like it was a big deal that Sanji’s brother was gay, and that perhaps Sanji had something against gay people, which left Zoro with an uncomfortable sinking feeling.

In the other room, Sanji was all but spilling his heart out to Robin, speaking quietly as she listened compassionately.

“I just can’t believe the bastard’s gay. He can be gay and he’s still the heir to the fucking dynasty like it’s no big deal? I just can’t fucking believe it,” Sanji was distraught.

“I’m so sorry Sanji,” Robin said, offering a hand to his shoulder.

“A part of me is so angry because I was literally disowned for being gay, and I’m, I don’t know, envious that Ichiji wasn’t? But in the same time, I know that it worked out for the better, because I probably would have fucking offed myself if I had to keep living in that oppressive fucking shithole. But I can’t help feeling so… so… betrayed? Angry? I don’t even know what this feeling is called. I just feel wronged,” the cook ranted under his breath, not wanting to be heard by the men in the other room.

“You  _ were _ wronged. What your father did to you was inexcusable. And it’s not fair that he’s treating your brother differently. It’s not fair at all. But it’s natural to feel conflicted, because your father left you nothing but the rubble of an old life, yet you were able to create a new and beautiful and successful life from that rubble. And that’s something you have that they don’t, that’s something to be proud of.” Robin always had wise and supportive words to say. 

“Robin, you’re so sweet. It’s just hard to feel good about myself when I’m face to face with someone from my past.” He couldn’t say it but in a way he felt like that confused little boy again.  “Just the fact that they are all here just, completely caught me off guard. And they want to use me for something too? I don’t know.” He felt like he was rambling, but Robin was keenly attentive.

“Tell me more about that, what did your sister say?”

“She wasn’t able to explain very much, just that the Vinsmokes want to “offer” me to Mama Charlotte to join the families I guess.”

A spark lit up Robin’s eyes as she mused, “A ritual sacrifice to be eaten alive so the families can be joined as one…”

Sanji chuckled nervously at Robin’s fascination with the macabre, “I don’t mean literally. She really didn’t say the details, but that is how it feels.”

“You feel like a sacrificial lamb.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to become one. They already sacrificed me once. They killed Sanji Vinsmoke. They won’t kill Sanji Black.”

Robin smiled. “That’s the Sanji we know and love.”

“Thanks Robin.” Sanji smiled genuinely at his friend, then buried his head in his hands, “Ugh but everything is still shit”

“Come now, there’s always a silver lining.”

“Silver lining… like what? Like my family is so desperate they would go so far as using  _ me _ ? My brother is an aromantic pansexual shithead who wanted to fuck my roommate and Zoro was okay with it?”

Robin simply smiled knowingly.

“That doesn’t help me at all!” Sanji could feel the frustration mounting, “I wanted my family to stay in the past, I don’t care how successful or unsuccessful they are. I don’t care that Ichiji likes to fuck around with other men, I don’t care that Zoro was one of those men.”

“You don’t?” Robin asked with eyes that spoke that they already knew the answer.

“ _ Fuck.”  _ The hair fell around Sanji’s fingers as he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s so confusing.”

“What is confusing, Sanji,” Robin pried gently.

“I don’t know, my feelings? Him?” Sanji looked up hopelessly. “I guess.. I just.. Okay fine, so he’s, he has a, as far as men go,” he clenched and unclenched his fingers, searching for the right way to make this admission, “his body is not bad.”

Robin chuckled, nodding to encourage the chef to go on.

“And so naturally, I, you know, he’s attractive. And we live together, so it’s probably just because I spend time with him, like we have dinner every night together, and he washes my dishes, and he makes a mess and I fucking hate it and he drives me fucking crazy but sometimes we can just talk and everything makes sense and he understands.” He felt himself rambling. “Fuck. It’s like we’re fucking married but I can’t even touch him. It’s so frustrating. And then he goes and fucks around with my brother.”

“Do you know that?”

“They went on two dates together and were all touchy feely and disgusting!”

“Hmm”

“It just, it’s so agonizing. Knowing that after all this, this, wanting him and thinking he was off limits, that he actually, that we could’ve. I don’t know. It’s foolish to want something with the guy” Sanji felt like he was saying too much but he couldn’t help himself from getting this off his chest.

“Is it though?”

“Of course! He’s my fucking roommate.”

“So?” Robin was ever calm, ever knowing.

“It’s just not right,” Sanji sighed hopelessly.

Robin nodded in understanding, but not in agreement as she began, “Sanji, I know you’re feeling very conflicted right now, but don’t fool yourself into thinking everything is hopeless just because you feel hopeless right now.”

The chef groaned petulantly, “I know you’re right. I just need to get over myself.”

Robin smiled encouragingly “And when you do, what are you going to do?”

“Keep living life.”

“And?”

“And enjoy it?” 

Robin laughed, “And talk to your roommate. Communication is key, and I think you’ll find that the both of you have more common ground than you realize. It’s understandable that things are tense now, but they don’t have to stay that way.”

Sanji sighed again, “I know you’re right. I do. But right now I kind of just, can’t even look at him without picturing him getting freaky with my brother.”

The archeologist laughed again, “That will pass.”

“God I hope so.”

Robin and Franky left the roommates feeling slightly better than they had earlier, but when they left, the veil of awkwardness settled back over the apartment in a quiet cloud. Without the company to keep them civil, the tension between them rose up like a brick wall. But Robin’s words had given Sanji the courage to at least ask the question that had been nagging at him. As the two of them stood facing the door, an arm’s length apart, not looking at the other, Sanji spoke without turning to face his roommate. 

“So did you guys fuck?”

Zoro looked over in surprise at the sudden intrusive question “What?”

“My brother.” Sanji explained simply. “Did you fuck?” He pulled a cigarette out anxiously, willing his hands to be steady.

Zoro let out a huff before replying a firm, “No.” 

Sanji close his eyes and let out an inaudible sigh of relief before asking his next question with a scowl, “Did you kiss?”

Zoro frowned and almost considered lying before replying, “Not your business.”

Sanji grimaced and muttered, “Disgusting.”

Zoro’s brows furrowed and felt a pang in his gut because he wasn’t sure if Sanji was disgusted at the fact that he had kissed a man or the fact that the man was his brother. Since living with Sanji he was feeling increasingly insecure about his sexuality but was unable to broach the subject. 

Finally Sanji turned away, unlit cigarette in his mouth, saying “I’m surprised you stuck around for dinner. Would have thought you’d go on another date with him.”

“Fuck no,” Zoro spat back, and Sanji couldn’t help but feel relieved at this.

“If it’s out of consideration for me you can shove it. I’m not trying to control your life, don’t let my shit dictate what you do and don’t do”

Zoro turned and laughed darkly, “As if I’d ever. I’m not seeing him again because he fights like a prick and he’s a handsy psychopath.”

Sanji was secretly relieved. He didn’t think he’d be able to take it if Zoro continued dating his brother. It would ruin him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to COTZO and Karla for helping me edit/beta this chapter! And thank you all for the comments, they really keep me motivated! I'm excited for where this story is headed, hold on to your hats kiddos we're in for a wild ride!! 
> 
> Btw i'm writing a smutty ZoSan oneshot right now and it should be up within the next few days, >:) if you want some hot hot action check it out under my works once I'm done hehehe.


	14. Vegetable Purgatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I"M SO EXCITED TO POST THIS FOR YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!! Sorry for the longer wait than usual, I needed time to figure out some plot points and work out the more gritty details of this fic!! Updates shouldn't take so long in the future, but they won't be as fast as they were in the beginning either. I'll try to post something once a week, whether it's this fic or other fics ahaha...
> 
> I have many other fics in progress which I’ll be uploading bit by bit, I’d love it if you could check them out! Obviously City Lights is ongoing and will have the most of my attention, but I need to get some of this other stuff off my chest too!
> 
> If there are characters you want to see, or ideas/prompts/request, leave them in the comments or message me on tumblr @pandamega and I’ll see if I can include them!
> 
> As always, the comments/reviews keep me going! Thank you all so much for the support so far, I’m excited for where this fic is going!
> 
> Thank you to my beta readers Cotzo and Karla!

To say the atmosphere in the apartment was tense would be the understatement of the century. Zoro felt like he was walking on eggshells around the chef, as if anything he did or said might set him off. He felt bad,  _ really  _ bad, which was an altogether foreign emotion to Zoro. The swordsman was the kind of guy who lived with no regrets and accepted the consequences of his actions. At least, that’s what his whole worldview had been built around. Never had the consequences of his actions caused someone close to him to suffer like this. He’d never had anyone close enough to hurt. Now he’d made the mistake of catching feelings for the chef, of sharing moments that had brought them together in a way that the things Zoro did actually mattered. The way Zoro fucked up actually mattered. He decided that getting close to Sanji had been foolish but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, to regret Sanji. He just regretted fucking up. And the new feeling of regret was throwing Zoro off big time. He was at a complete loss for what to do or how to behave around Sanji. They didn’t talk. They didn’t argue. They barely even made eye contact. 

Nonetheless, Sanji continued feeding his roommate and their nightly routine of dining together continued in a thick uncomfortable shroud of silence. Now, Zoro could handle tension, he could handle silence, he was a quiet man to begin with. He prided himself on being a low-maintenance, drama-free guy. But for some reason the awkward silence between him and Sanji was driving him mad. He couldn’t stand it, not when it was Sanji, not when it was the man he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of every waking hour. The tense silence in the apartment whenever the two were together wouldn’t have phased him were it with anyone else, but Sanji had an effect on Zoro, destabilized him, made him feel self-doubt.

Zoro was never a conversationalist to begin with, and he was beginning to regret his primitive affluence with words, as every bumbling attempt at small talk he attempted was shot down immediately and eloquently by the chef.

“Long day?” he might ask.

“Always,” would be the one-word reply.

“How was work?”

“Long.”

“Still raining huh?”

“How observant.”

Sanji’s replies were rarely more than one word, not that Zoro’s questions were much longer, but hell, at least he was trying. 

Sanji, on the other hand, was still quite clearly mad. But he was also confused and very frustrated, more frustrated with himself and the situation he found himself in than with his roommate, but he still took his frustration out on Zoro because the man wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander either.

Perhaps the worst part, for Zoro, was that Sanji only made salads for the next week. Salads. Every day. Zoro interpreted this as some kind of punishment, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain, because at the end of the day Sanji was still feeding him. He wasn’t a picky eater by any means, but cold salad for dinner every day was just dismal.

The reality was that Sanji preferred salad when he was stressed. The anxiety made it hard for him to stomach heavy foods, and he needed the fresh fruit and vegetables to clear his body and mind, keep him sharp and keep his mood from becoming too volatile. Fresh food kept the mind fresh, and Sanji needed something to stop him from feeling like his insides were decaying. To Zoro, however, this was vegetable purgatory. When Zoro was in a high-stress environment his answer was always protein. More protein. The salads were depleting him, physically and psychologically.

* * *

 

Day 6 of purgatory:

Sanji couldn’t bring himself to look at Zoro, much less talk with him. He had rushed out of the apartment before the man even awoke. Every time he saw the man he saw Ichiji leaning into him, hands all over him, and it was disgusting. It made him feel anger and envy and betrayal and despair. Sanji couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Zoro could elicit such emotions from him. He had no right. Sanji was feeling emotions he wasn’t supposed to feel. The anger was fine, hell, the anger was great compared to the other feelings. But the envy? He was envious of his brother. It brought back age old feelings he’d long since buried, the constant feeling of inadequacy, of never being good enough to deserve his father’s attention or praise. The envy he felt of being weaker and meeker and humbler than his brothers and getting hell for it. He’d put those feelings in his past, become a new man, only for his brother to come back and prove himself once again to be better. Sanji  _ wanted _ Zoro. He hated to admit it but he had wanted him since that first night on the rooftop when they’d opened up to each other. So of course, the first thing his brother did when he came to town was take that, take Zoro, because Sanji had once again been too inadequate to claim Zoro for himself. He also felt betrayed by Zoro, even though he knew the man wasn’t culpable. Zoro had no idea what he was getting himself into when he dated Ichiji, but it still felt like betrayal. It awoke all those feelings of past treasons committed against him that had scarred him so deeply. It was all so terribly confusing. Sanji was a mess of emotions and all he could do was eat salads and build his walls up higher. Push everyone away and refuse to talk to the one man he longed to work things out with. He hated himself for his stubborn personality. He hated himself for wanting Zoro. 

Sanji couldn’t focus on his work. Even outside of the apartment his thoughts were on Zoro. In the restaurant kitchens the parsley he chopped reminded him too much of that annoying mossy hair. In front of the stove he was just reminded of every night he’d spent making the man dinner. The restaurant was chaos and Sanji couldn’t clear his head or his heart because there was a deep longing that had him all wound up. There was a depth to Zoro that Sanji felt he could connect to on a level he hadn’t felt in a long time. Zoro wasn’t superficial, he was grounded and sincere, and sure as stone, while Sanji was a tumultuous sea. But like Sanji, the swordsman had his barriers up high, he was closed off. Sanji longed to chip down that wall, and he longed to have his own walls come crashing down, to open up to someone.

However this whole fiasco with his brother just showed that getting close to anyone only resulted in him getting hurt. If he hadn’t opened up, allowed himself to get close, he wouldn’t have felt so bad when he caught his brother with Zoro. It wouldn’t have hurt so much. He would be in better shape to address the more paramount issue of his family being in town. Instead, all he can think of is Zoro. All he can think of is the warm voice on the rooftop, voicing aloud feelings he never thought anyone else could understand. Zoro understood it all, the loss, the hopelessness, the determination. And when Sanji had opened up about his past, about being disowned and living on the streets, Zoro hadn’t offered cringy “sorry’s” or any words of sympathy. No, he had said “I’m happy for you.” Zoro didn’t look at him like a charity case, he saw him for the man he’d become, Sanji Black, head chef, a man who’d overcome his past and made a new life for himself. Sanji was eternally grateful because there wasn’t a shred of pity in Zoro’s eyes. There was understanding, and it had stirred Sanji so deeply. That response had touched him in his bones, empowered his soul. That might have been the moment he fell. The moment that had done him in. But now that conversation felt so far away. The stones that Zoro had cast down from Sanji’s walls were built back up twofold as the past came bearing down on him. He was pushing Zoro away when he really wanted him close. He needed someone to talk to, someone to help him figure out what was going on, someone to comfort him without pitying him. 

“Sanji, are you listening?” Nami’s voice broke through his wandering thoughts.

They were in his office behind the kitchens. Nami had come to the restaurant as she usually did on Tuesday afternoons for a financial briefing, a little later than usual, as dinner prep was finished and the first reservations had already arrived.

“Huh? Oh, sorry dear.” Sanji had been going through the motions all day, mind caught up in his own problems, and it had not gone unnoticed. 

Nami frowned, “What’s going on? I’ve never seen you this distracted.” She neglected to mention that Sanji had completely forgone his usual fawning over her arrival and had been oddly silent on their short walk to the office. Normally the chef would greet her enthusiastically, offer her food and drink, take her hand and plant a kiss on her knuckles, and ask her a dozen questions about her day between compliments on her appearance.

Sanji waved his hands disarmingly, not wanting Nami to worry or get caught up in his own troubles. “Oh I just didn’t get much sleep is all! You mentioned the food pantries right? How is the new one in the Bronx? People are using it?”

“Of course they’re being used,” Nami laughed, picking up on Sanji’s interest in taking the conversation off of his personal affairs. “The issue is keeping it stocked well enough. We don’t get enough donations, and I can only fund them so much without things getting fishy in the books, you understand right?”

“Of course. You’ve allocated profits from here too right? Is it enough to build the new pantry in Queens?”

“The profits from the restaurant aren’t the issue. It’s just the money from our... other endeavors. It takes me a long time to get the books balanced so we can’t access all the funds immediately. But I’ve given Franky the go-ahead to start building! I‘m excited to put some of that money those crooks drained from the community back to good use.”

“I still can’t believe the chief of police himself was involved that deep with the local gangs.” Sanji mused, recalling their latest unofficial “job.”

“Well, blackmailing him proved to be quite profitable, and he’s an easy one to manipulate. We’ll put him and his money to good use in the community.”

Sanji was thoughtful a moment. He agreed with Nami, and he knew the crew was working towards cleaning up the city, but he couldn’t help himself from having doubts every now and then. “You sure this is the right way to go about it? I mean, the police chief, he’s corrupted yet we’re not throwing him out altogether.”

Nami scoffed, “Throw him out and let someone else take his place to get bought out just the same?” She shook her head, “You know how this goes Sanji. He’s the police chief, if someone that high up is dirty, who knows who else is. And besides, at this point there isn’t a single official in the city who isn’t even a little corrupted. I mean hell, even Smoker isn’t squeaky clean.”

Sanji chuckled at the mention of the eccentric police captain, “Well at least he has the wellbeing of the people at heart.”

“And so do we,” Nami asserted. “So as long as we’re the one’s pulling the strings behind the scenes rather than the drug-running gangs, things will get better.”

Running his hands through his hair and down his face Sanji nodded, muttering, “Everything is just so complicated.”

Frowning, Nami tilted her head to regard her friend’s expression, “Don’t worry about the details Sanji, just do what you do best, feed people. We’re going to have your food pantries on every corner of the city soon enough.” She offered him a bright smile which he returned in kind.

“I can’t wait. How many grocery stores do we have on board?”

“Four local stores and two major chains have agreed to send us their nearly-expired and rejected produce and baked goods, I’ve also negotiated with a number of farms upstate and in Vermont and Maine who are willing to sell or donate rejected products that don’t meet quality standards.” Nami had pulled out her tablet and was flicking through the information. “I can’t believe they would just throw away fruits and veggies for being too small or lumpy.”

“That’s the problem with the commercial farming industry, the ugly fruit gets thrown away even when it’s still good to eat.” Sanji was scowling, the topic of food waste was one he was particularly passionate about.

Nami reached out and touched the chef’s cheek, squaring him a serious look in the eyes, “You’re making a difference, Sanji.”

The chef flushed, brushing off the sincere sentiment, “Oh Nami, you are an angel!”

“Stop it,” Nami laughed. The humble chef always did this. He was unable to accept compliments or acknowledge his own success, choosing to turn the compliments onto someone else instead. She decided to change the subject back to her earlier inquiry on his personal troubles. “Tell me what’s going on with you.” 

Shaking his head, Sanji insisted, “Oh it’s nothing, I mean it.”

“At least tell me how things are with Zoro? I pried some information out of Robin, I hope you don’t mind. Is it really that bad, with Zoro?” She worried at her lip, “If it would help, I could move some stuff around, find another apartment so at least you wouldn’t have to live together?”

“Oh Nami,” Sanji was quiet for a moment, pondering her offer. “it’s not…”  _ it’s not that bad, is it? _ “I don’t know if that would make me feel better or worse.”

“Talk to me, Sanji.” Despite all her quirks, Nami was a great friend and a great listener, even if she often listened with the intention of gaining information that would further her own personal interests. 

“It’s really… It’s foolish,” he laughed despondently. “I... miss him.”

Nami tilted her head indicating that she didn’t understand, encouraging him to go on.

“We live in the same apartment, we even eat together but we just… Some things happened, I don’t know how much Robin told you but I had some… family issues that Zoro got caught up in and now we’re not talking.” He sighed heavily, rubbing at his face. “It’s weird but, I miss the constant fighting,” he laughed cynically. Sanji missed the bickering in the morning and their conversations at night, those tender moments of understanding on the rooftop when the world felt small below them and their problems felt as far away as the stars and the city lights. 

“I guess I’m still mad at him, but I’m more just stressed about this thing with my family and I just… I want to come home to a friend.” Sanji was at a loss. His own words silenced him. Since when had Zoro become anything close to a friend? Somewhere along the line the bond between them had grown and Sanji had developed a kind of dependence on the moss head. After a long day at work he always looked forward to coming home to Zoro and arguing with him while he cooked dinner. The tension would ease out of him. And during their rare nights on the rooftop he found that he’d shared more with the swordsman in their short time of knowing each other than he’d shared with most people. The man was still an enigma but he felt that he was beginning to unravel the man’s complexities. He felt like he was getting closer to understanding his roommate. Beyond that, Zoro was getting closer to understanding him, which he was surprised to realize was something he longed for.

“Sanji,” Nami started in a gentle voice, “it sounds like you just need to bite the bullet and talk to him.” Nami was always straightforward, she didn’t speak in mysteries like Robin. She was blunt and up-front and unafraid of giving her honest opinion when it mattered. “I’ve known Zoro for a long time. He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t want to hurt his friends.”

And there it was. Was Sanji a friend? Did Sanji even want to be Zoro’s friend? 

“I just,” Sanji gathered his thoughts, “before he came along everything was so balanced and I was in control, and now I feel like my whole world is built on stilts and the slightest breeze will topple everything over. I just don’t want to fuck up any more. I don’t want to lose what I’ve worked so hard for”

“You won’t lose anything Sanji. You can’t let your past haunt you. I don’t know all the details about your history but I know you aren’t a lost little boy anymore. If someone from your past wants to come and take something away from you, I  _ know _ you can kick their ass. And Luffy and me and everyone else will be there to kick their asses too.

Sanji laughed. He knew she was right and he was just having a moment of weakness. “God I feel so pathetic right now.”

“Don’t.” Nami stated firmly. “You’ve listened to me cry about much more trivial things, I’m just returning the favor.” She smirked, “You know how I hate to be in anyone’s debt.”

With a chuckle Sanji murmured, “Nami and debt certainly don’t go together. Well unless it’s someone else’s debt.”

They both laughed for a moment. Nami regarded her friend fondly before deciding to press him further.

“So what is this about your family? To be honest I wasn’t aware you even had any…”

“I don’t.” Sanji stated coldly, “Not anymore.” His expression softened, “Don’t worry your pretty head with my problems, It’s nothin-”

“Stop it Sanji.” Nami’s voice was stern. “You always do this. Try to take on everything yourself.” She huffed, sitting up straighter and giving him a severe look. “Stop lying to yourself. You  _ do _ have a family. We’re you’re family.” 

Sanji looked back at her with wide-eyed surprise. “Nami…”

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about what’s going on, if you need time to think things through. But don’t you dare for a second try, or even think about going through this stuff alone. You hear me?” Nami was smiling now, really quite proud of herself for her smooth talking just now.

Sanji smiled, feeling much lighter than he had earlier. “Thank you…. Thank you.”

Just then the door to his office burst open and one of the underchefs stumbled in, sweating and breathless, calling for him.

“Sanji, we really need you in the kitchen, I’m sorry to interrupt you, Miss Nami, but Carne and Patty got in an argument over who would make the dinner special, we’re getting complaints about guests waiting too long for their appetizers, that new dishwasher already broke three plates and fired a spray of water over the prep table, got Gin in the eye and made some of the dishes soggy. It’s a disaster in there. I’m sorry Miss Nami but, please…!” the chef had a frenzied and desperate look in his eyes that Sanji understood all too well.

Nami chuckled, turning to Sanji, “Go ahead, they need you.”

The head chef stood, taking on a serious expression. “Tell Carne to get his head out of his ass and make the appetizers. Patty is on plating and presentation. If they argue tell them they’re gonna replace the dishwasher. I’ll make the dinner special myself. I’ll be right in to see the damage. Bring my dear Nami a plate of that chocolate raspberry mousse for her troubles.”

Nami grinned and began to stand, “Oh Sanji, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.”

* * *

 

Back at the SUNNYGO Zoro and his students were gathered around a conference table in a meeting lead by none other than Usopp.

“- and so, it was with the aid of the infamous, world renowned super-hacker whose identity to this day remains unknown, the one and only, Sogeking, that we discovered the presence of a big time weapons dealer here in New York City. Thanks to my, er, ahem, Sogeking’s masterful skills, the company has made contact to arrange a meeting while they are in the area!” 

Carrot was listening intently, eyes glistening in excitement, when she shot her hand up in the air to ask a question. Usopp, delighted by his captivated audience, acknowledged her, “Yes, Carrot?”

“How did we manage to get the amazing and mysterious Sogeking to help us?” She asked earnestly. Zoro, already bored of Usopp’s long-winded briefing, slapped a hand to his face at his gullible student’s question.

“Well you see, Carrot, it was I, the great Usopp, who expertly negotiated -”

Zoro cut him off with a growl, “Just get on with it, already.”

The long-nosed man visibly cowered. “Right, yes, I’ll get back to that question! Um, moving on! You guys, the security team, will be meeting in person with these weapons dealers under the premise of buying weapons.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched into a smirk. Finally, he might be getting some action at work. 

“The main mission is networking and gathering intel. We don’t know who these guys are, but with the kind of tech their boasting, there’s no way they’re just small time weapon smugglers. They’re definitely tied to some bigger supplier, most likely a legitimate manufacturer, or even the military. Now, I know you guys are primarily a security team, but Luffy has decided to send you guys in for this. You won’t officially be representing us, you’ll be going under the guise of a shell corporation that isn’t connected to SUNNY. We’ve put some serious money and opportunities on the table for these weapons dealers, so we expect someone higher up to show to the meet. With any luck we won’t be dealing with lackeys, but with someone who actually knows the business and has connections, so we can get an idea of who we’re dealing with. This is a big deal because we’ve never seen such a big time weapons dealer make moves in the New York underground.”

Everyone around the table nodded thoughtfully. Pedro piped up this time to ask, “Do we think these guys are connected with Joker?”

Zoro raised a skeptical brow. He hoped Pedro wasn’t pulling some Batman reference, but Zoro had never heard of any “Joker” character. 

“So far, no,” Usopp started, then noticed Zoro’s confused expression, “Ah, that’s right Zoro, Joker showed up while you were away. We think he’s the same person some used to call the Puppeteer, I don’t know if you remember him? Our network wasn’t that deep back then, but it seemed like that man was pulling a lot of strings at the time.”

Zoro hummed thoughtfully as he tried to recall his earlier days with Luffy doing underground fights and hunting down criminals while becoming one himself. “Didn’t he have some drug and human trafficking rings?”

“Yes, and now Joker runs all of them, which is why we think he might be the same person, just, levelled up. His ties run deep but no one’s ever seen his face.”

“Probably hiding in plain sight,” Zoro ventured, smirking.

There was a momentary pause while Zoro pulled his bloodlust back in check and Usopp coughed awkwardly before continuing.

“So for the weapons handoff, I’m sending in Franky with you guys to check out the tech. He understands that stuff a-almost as good as me -” he laughed a boastful but slightly dishonest laugh.

Zoro chuckled, “If you’re so good with that stuff maybe you should be the one coming in with us?”

Usopp laughed nervously, “I-I’ll be behind the scenes taking care of surveillance and communication! Also I have this rare disease where I can’t get too close to mob bosses with super weapons…” he laughed again and Zoro smiled amusedly. Usopp hadn’t changed a bit in the three years he had been away.

Sliding his hands onto the smooth conference table, Zoro spoke up with his own question. “I don’t understand why we don’t just take them out at the hand off.”

“Take out, like, you mean” Usopp laughed uncomfortably once again, until he realized Zoro was completely serious about taking out the weapons dealers on the spot. He coughed into his fist and explained, “W-Well, a few reasons actually. If their tech is any good, we might actually have a use for the weapons and want to establish a long term relationship with them.”

“With weapons dealers?” Zoro growled, “You’re talking about the people that put guns on the streets and make our neighborhoods unsafe for families.”

“A-Ah, no, well, yes, ah, that was my first thought as well, but they specialize in advanced technology, they aren’t the ones puting glocks and AK-47’s on the street, they deal in more specialized weaponry. I haven’t found evidence that they deal with local gangs; their products are too pricey for the average street thug. Th-That being said, I think there may be mafia involvement, as well as corporate, private security, contractors, and under the table government or military connections. They seem to deal with, er, white collar investors, so to say. That’s not to say they’re doing good business though, they’re definitely putting weapons in the hands of people who shouldn’t have them. But that’s another reason we’re getting involved. We want to find out who their customers are, and who their suppliers are. We’re basically going in undercover until we get close enough to the source. It’ll also be an opportunity to expand our range of influence and knowledge when it comes to underground business deals. As big as our network is, we barely even scratch the surface. We can’t even begin to compare with guys like Joker, which means we have a long way to go before we can take him down. We’ve got to get our hands a little dirty if we want to clean up the city, if that makes sense.”

A lot of this was going way over Zoro’s head, but he felt like he understood the basics of it. “So we’re going undercover as part of SUNNYGO to expose these weapons dealers?”

“Technically you’ll be representing a shell corporation that is not related to SUNNYGO. We don’t want this weapons deal to be tied back to the company. If someone manages to find a connection between SUNNY and illicit weapons trade it would be… not good…”

“Hmmm,” this was all very complicated. “And for the meet, we’re just going in to buy weapons and arranging future deals?”

“Exactly! Franky will be there to analyze the tech, he’ll decide what to buy and do most of the negotiations. You guys will be his backup. I’ll be monitoring surveillance and keeping you updated on the coms for anything out of the ordinary.”

“And what if it goes sour?” Zoro shouldn’t have been grinning at the thought.

“Ah, we’re currently negotiating a location, one where you guys can get out fast. I’ll take care of existing surveillance in the area and set up our own, so we’ll know if anyone unexpected shows up. The police shouldn’t catch wind of this exchange, since I, er, Sogeking communicated the deal over a heavily encrypted network. But if they do show up, I’ll see them coming from miles away.”

“And what if these guys don’t like us. Will we have to take them out?”

“Um, well, seeing as they’re coming to sell us an arsenal of high tech weapons, lets just hope it doesn’t come to that…. Just don’t do anything to piss them off okay?” 

“Hm.” Zoro crossed his arms over his chest. It seemed like a pretty simple job, and if all went well, it would be a boring one. 

“I’m giving Pedro the location,” Usopp said, “he’ll be in charge of getting you guys there, then everything’s in your and Franky’s hands. I’ll be in your ears.” 

“Why does Pedro get the location?” Zoro asked indignantly.

“Because you’ll get lost and won’t make the meet.”

Everyone stifled their chuckles to Zoro’s dismay. His lack of directional aptitude was no secret to anyone in the room. He clicked his tongue and turned his head while Usopp continued speaking.

“Anyway, starting tomorrow you’ll be reviewing weapons training! Since the job is not on SUNNYGO property, it will be a free for all as far as guns go.” Standing taller and placing his hands on his hips, Usopp spoke up boastfully, “The great sniper Captain Usopp will take you to my personal firing range! You’ve all had ballistics training before but don’t think of this as a refresher course, prepare to have your mind blown!”

Carrot was beaming excitedly, bouncing in her seat at the prospect of weapons training.

“So that’s it for the briefing, we’ll go over more details in the coming days. If you have your own preferred weapons, bring them along tomorrow, and your permits, if you have those, which you should!” 

With that, Usopp gave a comical salute and bounded out of the door. Zoro turned in his seat to face his class and leveled them with a serious look.

“This kind of work isn’t in your job descriptions, so I want to make sure you’re all okay with taking on this kind of job.”

Carrot piped up just as cheerily as always, “Actually, our job descriptions did mention field trips!”

“What?” Zoro asked.

Pedro ran a hand through his shaggy hair as he addressed Carrot, “Actually, Nami told us to disregard that document because Luffy wrote it. But you’re right. Our employment contract does stipulate certain out of office ‘opportunities,’ which I assumed would be something like this.”

“Oh,” was Zoro’s simple reply. “So you’re all okay with this?”

His class smiled and a few other’s on the security team piped up.

“I’m down.”

“We expected this!”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Zoro beamed at his students, “Good.”

“Sensei,” Carrot once again interjected, “you seem a bit out of it, you’re not worried are you?”

Shaking his head, he replied “No, don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

The young woman frowned, then her lips twitched into a sly grin, “Love troubles, huh?”

“Wha-what” the swordsman sputtered. Once again, he had been bested by women’s intuition. “It’s not. You’re wrong. I’m just sick of salads.”

* * *

Of course it was salad again that night. Sanji threw it together artfully as always. Zoro had been occupying himself in another one of his excessive and distracting workout routines. Left hand gripping the top frame of the doorway to his room, he hung from one arm doing a set of leg lifts followed by a one arm pull up. And of course, he was shirtless, tanned skin glistening with little beads of sweat, eyes stern and focused. A cold salad would do for Sanji what a cold shower was meant to and still his unchaste mind. Damn, he needed a smoke.

“Dinner’s on the table,” the chef called out to his roommate, then slipped on a coat and some loafers to go to the roof. A part of him hoped the shitty swordsman would follow, but given the guy’s disposition these past few days, it was doubtful.

It was chillier than it had been just a month earlier. The wind danced around him as he lay back, the city lights as bright as always, indifferent to his personal affairs. There was a kind of anonymity with living in the city that Sanji rather liked. Everywhere was too crowded, everyone too busy to pay notice to one another. But it also made the bustling city full of people strangely lonely. Everyone was crowded together in the city yet so far apart. The streets below were endless and endlessly busy, far below his precarious perch at the edge of the roof. He wished he could fly. He wished he could soar over all the bullshit and escape. He wanted freedom. He thought he’d finally escaped his past but here it was encroaching on his new life with a vengeance and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He didn’t know why his family was in town, he didn’t know what they were planning, but he new it was all downhill from here. He wished Zoro would take a hint and join him on the roof, but he was alone, and alone in his thoughts.

He missed the connection between them. He’d be happy just to beat the guy up again. The fight at the club had been incredible, bodies flung at each other in a frenzy. He’d let his emotions run rampant and it had burned off some of the frustration of having just learned that his family was in town. The quality of the fight itself even vindicated Zoro of the affair with his brother, to a degree. He wanted more of that, whether by way of another physical brawl or just a petty argument. The silence between them was hell, and yes, he knew that it was his own fault for blowing off the man’s conversations, but the weak attempts at small talk frankly pissed him off. The way Zoro acted around him as if he was walking on glass, afraid to do or say anything to set Sanji off was irritating to no end. He just needed things to be normal again. Needed an excuse to yell at the man, kick his ass up the wall. But instead Zoro was acting like a fucking kicked puppy. Did that man really think Sanji was so weak? So sensitive that he couldn’t handle Zoro’s shit? But how could Sanji outright say, “Come on Zoro, stop pussyfooting around and be an asshole again. I need it.” 

Sanji just needed relief. He had a shitty sense of what relief was if he actually wanted Zoro to return to his shitty attitude, but it set Sanji’s mind at ease. He needed a friend. God, Sanji had a twisted idea of friendship.

Back in the apartment Zoro lay on the couch, waiting for the shit cook to return. He felt strange eating dinner alone knowing the chef was probably just up on the roof. But he figured the guy needed some time to himself, away from Zoro. Sanji must still be disgusted with him for having been with his brother. Zoro could understand but it still tugged at his heart painfully. He did his best to stay out of the chefs way, not wanting to cause the man more anxiety. He didn’t know the details about Sanji’s family but he knew it was bad. If Sanji wanted to tell him, he would, Zoro wouldn’t press. It was clear everything was weighing heavily on Sanji and a part of Zoro wanted to be there for him, wanted to sit next to him and pull the chefs head on his shoulder and listen. Just listed to anything the man needed to say. He wanted to comfort him, tell him everything would be okay, tell him his family could fuck off because Zoro was there, Zoro would protect him - not that he needed protection, but he would be a barrier nonetheless. A buffer to that troubled past. But Zoro wasn’t that kind of person to Sanji. He didn’t even think he could call himself a friend. There were moments, lying on the rooftop, eating dinner together, putting that god forsaken shelf together, even while fighting, there were moments that he really felt like Sanji was a friend. Perhaps even a close friend. But it seemed presumptuous to assume the chef felt the same way. And right now, the way Sanji behaved signalled to Zoro that he needed space. So Zoro would give him that. He held his tongue, he didn’t start arguments or provoke the chef. He was fucking  _ docile _ . He cleaned up after himself, did the dishes without complaint, and drank alone in his room. He would give the chef his peace and quiet to deal with his issues on his own, without Zoro’s meddling and interference. 

* * *

  
  


Day 8 of purgatory.

To say it was a rough week at work would be quite an understatement. Chaos seemed to follow Sanji around like a shadow, and the restaurant’s kitchen was in a perpetual frenzy. His own brain was starting to fail him, and he was ashamed to admit that his own performance was suffering. The tension at home had been slowly eating away at him, and when he got to work Sanji was already so close to losing his cool he almost fucked up a dish. He barely made it through the Saturday dinner rush. Things were bad. He needed to blow off some steam. Normally on stressful nights he'd go to the fight club, but he just couldn’t go back there after his fights with Zoro and Ichiji. Just thinking about seeing them that time made him so furious he might black out. As much as he wanted to go kick someone’s ass, he knew showing up at the club in his current state wouldn’t do him any favors. But damn, he was so close to just saying “fuck it.”

When he finally got home, he began preparing another salad with some grilled chicken and roasted squash over a bed of arugula and fresh greens. To be quite honest, Sanji was also getting pretty sick of eating cold salads every day. At this point he was stubbornly doing it to get a rise out of the swordsman, to piss him off enough that he’d do  _ something. _ There was also something strangely satisfying about chopping the green vegetables that reminded him of the moss head. He chopped them with slightly excessive force and concentration, filling the quiet apartment with the rhythmic  _ “tap, tap, tap _ ” of the knife against the chopping block.

Zoro was normally very good with asceticism. He could make do with very little, he could sleep on the bare ground, eat only rice and water, exist in silence and self-denial and live solely off of meditation. But the miasma of tension in the air was really messing with his zen, or his qi, or vibe or whatever. It was oppressive. The chef was exuding some kind of aura that just made it impossible to focus. And the  _ tap-tap _ of the cutting board was just unbearable. He grabbed a hand towel and threw it over his shoulders, unable to focus on his workout, and stepped into the kitchen where dinner was probably ready. It was, and it was the final straw. Salad. Salad again. Something inside him came dangerously close to snapping, and he couldn’t stop the groan of disappointment from escaping his throat.

“You got a problem?” the chef asked sharply.

Zoro knew he shouldn’t say anything. He knew he should hold his tongue, but right now it felt a lot like he had nothing to lose. “I’m sick to death of salad.”

“Too bad, It’s good for you. And it matches your hair.”

“I feel fucking malnourished.”

At this Sanji let out a cynical laugh. “Malnourished?? You don’t  _ know _ malnourished.” Zoro had hit a sore spot. “If you hate it so much make your own damn food.”

“Maybe I should.”

Sanji let out another humourless laugh and spat, “I can’t wait to see the day, shit swordsman.”

“Fuck you, I should kick your ass,” Zoro snapped back.

“Like you could, I already beat your ass once.”

“That fight was bullshit.”

“What was bullshit,” Sanji rounded on him wielding salad tongs, eyes alight with genuine rage, “Was you showing up with my fucking  _ brother _ as a  _ fucking DATE _ you sick fuck.”

“ _ Fuck off _ !” Zoro whipped the towel from around his neck and threw it on the table.

“ _ Take that dirty fucking thing off the dinner table, _ ” Sanji snarled, pointing to the offending object with his tongs.

“ _ Make me. _ ”

That was it. Sanji barely had the restraint to set the tongs down before he spun around, sending a roundhouse kick over the table and towards Zoro’s face. The swordsman leaned back unflinching as the foot passed just in front of his nose. 

“Come at me for real, shit cook.”

Sanji’s blood was boiling. One quick stride and he was swinging over the dinner table feet-first going in for the kill. He pulled off his apron in a fluid motion and threw kick after kick in his roommate’s direction, keeping Zoro moving backwards on the defensive until they were in the living room. 

Zoro, having lured Sanji out of the kitchen, now had room to duck and swing, grazing Sanji in the side just as he was sidestepping away. The impact was minimal but it helped Zoro gauge the cook’s speed and movement. Another kick came flying towards him. _ I see it _ . He caught it mid air, bracing himself for the aftershock, then smiled wickedly, thinking he had the cook in his grasp. But this was nothing new to Sanji, he flipped backwards sending his other leg swinging upwards in a flying back-flip acrobatic move that Zoro had not thought humanly possible. He released Sanji’s foot and stumbled back, but the toe of Sanji’s shoe clipped his chin, sending his teeth crashing together and catching a bit of his tongue. He tasted blood in his mouth. This was getting exciting. Sanji had perfect balance and precision, he could turn on a dime and it made his strikes deadly accurate and hard to predict. Zoro’s overwhelming brute strength combined with his perfect control made him an even match, despite their vastly different fighting styles. Zoro had to focus hard on not getting distracted again, as he had been the last time they fought. Sanji was just such an excellent and unique fighter. Sanji, too, had to struggle to remain in the fight, as Zoro’s shirtless body moving in front of him had many points of interest that he would have loved to study more leisurely. They exchanged blows, revelling in the adrenaline rush, the physical exertion, and the opportunity to finally take their frustrations out on each other. Zoro charged towards Sanji who skipped backwards just out of reach, one hand in his pocket, the other hand casually unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. It wasn’t intended as a distraction, but Zoro found himself momentarily distracted and neglected to reel his mind back in before a devastating kick connected with his chest. He fell backwards winded and Sanji was instantly on him, pinning him down with vice-like thighs, straddled over him with his hair a tangled mess and eyes wild with frenzy. Zoro’s breath caught in his throat and he found himself frozen in place as his devastatingly attractive roommate stared down at him with an indiscernible madness in his eyes.

A hunger buried deep inside Sanji crawled up and possessed him. There, with the object of both his frustrations and affections trapped underneath him, his body took the situation into its own hands and moved on its own. Before his mind could slam on the breaks and before he even realized what he was doing, he had leaned down, alarms blaring in his brain all the while, and pressed his mouth onto Zoros. He kissed him fervently, desperately. His body was at the mercy of his longing as his tongue swept greedily over Zoro’s slack lips, then plunged inside to plunder the swordsman’s own mouth from him. Tongue met tongue and with their lips sealed together he pulled his tongue back to suck Zoro’s tongue into his mouth, stealing it. He tasted the blood, the metallic tang only fueled the fire within him. 

Zoro had his mouth taken from him, his damaged tongue literally stolen from within his own mouth. He was stunned, his mind was transferred to some other dimensional realm. He was being kissed within an inch of his life, his mind was wiped blank, and he couldn’t tell if his heart was racing or if it had stopped completely.

And just as fast as it had started, it was over. Sanji broke away with a loud, wet sound, leaving Zoro open-mouthed, cold, and depleted. It took him only a split second to realize what he had done, and in an instant he was on his feet and out the door, keys in hand.

It took Zoro considerably longer to realize what had just transpired, and he lay on the floor rather uselessly until his brain caught up with his current situation. Sanji had kissed him. Not just any kiss either, he had  _ devoured _ him. Adrenaline pumping and heart racing, Zoro found himself lying on his back with a silly smile plastered on his reddened lips. Whatever was going on between them, this meant something. This meant that somewhere under all that disinterest and frustration, Sanji had feelings for him, however small. Perhaps it was only sexual frustration, perhaps it was only a product of anger, but it was still something. And that meant Zoro had a chance. The clouds seemed to part, the darkness had lifted, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally there's hope?!?!   
> Please let me know what you think, I hope the plot/planning sections weren't too complicated or confusing. What do you guys think is going to happen next? hehehe I'm not telling!
> 
> By the way, what do you think of this chapter length? I've been averaging around 7000 words per chapter, it seems like a lot at first but then it goes by so fast...


	15. GO AFTER HIM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh okay I’m sorry, I’ve been sitting on this chapter for like… weeeks… I know, I’m sorry, but hey! Did you see everything I posted for ZoSan week??? Lots of new one shots, check them ouutt. More stuff on the way. I even found my old hard drive and like, 200 files of unfinished fanfic from 2011… hot damn, what a mess. There’s some good stuff in there though, I’ll polish it up and upload some of it :)  
> Also for those who don’t know, I live on tumblr and you can commune with me there :)) @pandamega as always.
> 
> Many thanks to @jaspertheshark for the awesome fanart that you made for me?!? Holy crap, I’m honored, these are salty tears on my face. Go shower Jasper with love and adoration people! http://jaspertheshark.tumblr.com/post/177757869240/so-this-is-the-monster-ive-been-working-on-for-the
> 
> This chapter is unbeta’d because I’ve been sitting on it for so long and decided just to put it outttt and I’ve gone through it with a fine tooth comb like a million times goddamnit lol.

Sanji kissed him. 

_ Sanji kissed him! _

Jolting upright, Zoro recovered from his momentary paralysis, brain jump-starting back into awareness. This was no time to be laying back with a foolish grin, he had to take action, he had to chase after the chef! This was the part in those shitty soap operas where Zoro was supposed to run Sanji down through rain or snow and grab his hand, out of breath, and kiss him back, spill all his feelings out, sweep him off his feet and carry him home to make love and live happily ever after. He had to find Sanji! 

Without coat or shoes Zoro was out the door. But where to go? The street? The roof? The chef always went to the roof to think. The elevator ride was painfully slow, and when it arrived at the top floor he flew out the door and down the halway, yanked the stairwell open and climbed up to the open air of the night. But Sanji wasn’t there. Leaning back against the door, Zoro sighed. He had missed his chance. Where had the chef gone? Oh, right, he suddenly remembered that Sanji had grabbed his car keys before leaving. The chef was probably far away by now.

_ Damn! _

Zoro felt a little foolish now because he’d have to wait at the apartment for Sanji to return so he could ambush him for an explanation. He’d have to return eventually, and now that Zoro knew that Sanji had some sort of feelings for him, he could rest more easily. Things were going to change for the better. Zoro would make sure of it. He wouldn’t let Sanji wallow in self doubt and he wouldn’t let the man go through his problems alone. Now that he knew Sanji didn’t hate him, he was confident he’d be able to make a difference in the man’s life. 

He lay back on the rooftop and thought over several scenarios of what he’d do when the chef came home. Sanji was probably a little freaked out right now for having acted impulsively, so Zoro would have to put his mind at ease, make sure the chef knew that things were okay between them, as much as it was tempting to tease the man about it. But this was serious, and Zoro didn’t want to screw it up. 

 

* * *

 

As soon as Sanji was out the door, he got in his car, and was driving the fuck away. 

_ Fuck. _

What had he done? What was he thinking? He wasn't thinking. He had been angry, sexually frustrated, his underlying attraction to the man must have been more powerful than his self restraint and rationality. He’d completely acted on impulse. Chalk it up to it having been a while. Like. A long while. But that was no excuse. Sure, turns out Zoro liked other men too, but that revelation was only so good until other men meant his fucking piece of shit brother. And just because Zoro liked men didn't mean he liked Sanji.  _ Fuck. _ He had just sexually assaulted his roommate. 

Nothing was okay with that. It was so wrong in so many ways. He needed to escape. He drove on autopilot to his restaurant, where there were sharp knives, a blazing oven, and things he could chop to shit. 

Sanji’s brain was a muddled mess as he whipped egg whites with a frenzy. His frustration was transformed into snowy marshmallowy peaks, perfectly minced herbs, and beautifully layered pastry. Sanji was an emotional baker, and some of his most profound creations had evolved from the heat of passionate venting. The fluffiness born from his frenzied whipping and the flavors erupting from overzealous seasoning were sensational manifestations of his emotion.

The oven was a blaze, and what emerged was an abstraction of a quiche - gorgeous and artful. It was beautiful and tasted like anger and trauma and frustration and in all honesty was probably a masterpiece. But as much as he’d vented his emotional and sexual frustration into the pie, he still felt terribly pent up. It wasn’t enough. He’d have to bake a hundred pies to relieve the tension and anxiety within him. He needed something more efficient, a more straightforward way to vent. There was only one place to go in situations like this. He slid the quiche into the fridge to analyze tomorrow and went back to his car.

* * *

 

On his way back to his room Zoro had contemplated a game plan for approaching the chef when he returned and came up with a single solid plan that not even he could fuck up. Forget complicated words and explanations, Zoro was a man of action and he would simply act, grab Sanji when he came home and kiss him back. Easy right? Foolproof. He spent the elevator ride back to his floor convincing himself that this plan would work.

As he walked down the halway back to the apartment, Zoro noticed an unfamiliar figure standing in the hall, no, in front of his door. Brows furrowing he studied the primly dressed woman and noted that he did not recognize her as someone from the company. She wore a dainty pink dress and had long waves of strawberry blonde hair, and she turned to face Zoro as he approached.

Offering him a bright smile, the woman addressed him politely.

“Excuse me, would you happen to know if this is the residence of Sanji Vin- er, Sanji Black?”

Frowning at the woman suspiciously, Zoro asked, “What do you want with Sanji?”

To Zoro’s horror, the woman flushed, tingeing her smooth cheeks a rosy pink and making her all the more devastatingly beautiful. She shuffled her feet bashfully and looked all the part a pining maiden as she replied. “Well, I’m, I would like to see him”

Too bad for her, but Zoro was immune to her charm, though he grimaced at the thought that Sanji would be falling over himself for her if he were here. Good thing he wasn't as Zoro was in no mood to see Sanji go all dreamy eyed over someone else right now.

“He’s not here,” he said briskly while brushing past her to get to his door. 

Undeterred the woman continued to pry, “Oh, do you know when he’ll be back?

“No idea,” came Zoro’s terse reply as he searched for his access key.

The woman took great efforts not to show it, but she was becoming peeved at his brusk indifference. “I’m,” she began, standing her ground, “I’m his fiance!” she blurted out in a huff.

Zoro froze.

Immediately, the woman slapped a hand over her mouth and turned a bright crimson. Zoro took a moment to process the information in disbelief before repeating her words.

“Fiance?”

She nodded, eyes glistening victoriously as she finally caught the man’s attention. 

“Sanji’s engaged?” Zoro asked, the words feeling alien on his tongue, bitter and dry.

“Mhm” She nodded again, appearing more and more giddy with each affirmation.

“To be married?”

“Yes!” It came out as more of a squeak, and the smile in her cheeks was not hidden behind the hand she still held to her lips.

Zoro felt like he was going to be sick. All the blood had frozen in his veins. So much for his light at the end of the fucking tunnel. There was no light, he was running towards the blazing inferno hell headfirst and there was no stopping his path of self-destruction. He simply nodded in understanding, eyes distant, absent.

“Well, since he’s not home it can’t be helped. He’s just so busy!”

Nodding again, Zoro turned away from her and opened his apartment door, stepping inside solemnly like a man walking towards his execution. When the door closed behind him he was immobilized by a wave of emotion. Frustration, grief, anger. What was going on? So Sanji was straight? Then what was that kiss? Did he still hate gay people after all? Was it all a terrible trick? Had he been deceived? Nothing made sense. Immediately his keys and phone were thrown across the room. It was fortunate that there weren’t other objects at hand or they too would have made a voyage across the apartment to smash into the far wall. The air in here was stifling and he couldn’t stay in this shared abode between himself and the duplicitous enigma of a man that had so easily twisted and manipulated Zoro’s emotions like a play thing in the palm of his hand. How easily he had been led awry. How easily he had been made to feel the elation of hope, and how easily it had been dashed to send him plummeting into despair. Since when had the swordsman become so volatile? As one who exercised complete control and precision over his body, how had his grip on his emotions become so flimsy, how had he become so fragile? He had to get out. He had to get out and assert his strength and control. He needed to get a grip and find his balance and vent and rage and beat his fists into something and get the shit kicked out of him. He needed to fight. 

* * *

 

The pounding music was doing nothing for Sanji’s anxiety, it only seemed to spur on the frenzied beating in his chest and the jitters in his fingers. He didn’t care who would show up in the ring tonight, he needed to kick the shit out of a willing participant. Heading straight for the bar Sanji attempted to subdue his roiling emotions with a strong martini, throwing it back quickly before heading to the halls behind the fighting pit. The club had a bit of a maze of underground rooms and halls beneath the dance floor connecting the pit to the upper levels which included the locker rooms as well as a few private rooms and offices. Sanji holed himself up in an unoccupied room to stretch and limber up before his fight. The thrumming of the bass echoed through the ceiling and vibrated the floor below, but the room was otherwise quiet and isolated, leaving Sanji in relative peace and absolutely oblivious to the fact that his roommate and the object of his current frustrations had just entered the premises. 

Zoro made a beeline for the bar, kicking back a few shots of whiskey before weaving his way through the dance floor. The layout of this place made no sense to him, and it seemed like it changed every time Zoro had come here. He knew the pit was right at the back behind the dance floor, and that the locker rooms were connected to the pit. He also knew there was some secret hallway connecting the locker rooms to the dance area, but with the crowd of throbbing bodies, flashing lights, and booming music it was all but impossible to find his way. His frustration doubled when he’d been sucked into the throng of writing bodies and had to struggle to free himself from the mob on the dance floor. He hated dance clubs. He hated everything about them, including the music, the people, the shallow flirtation, the hedonism, the extravagant posturing and displays of wealth and status, and of course, the dancing. After being turned around the vip lounge area and going up and down a red carpeted set of stairs he found himself right back at the bar where he started and decided he needed another drink. 

“You here to fight?” the bartender asked upon filling a tumblr generously with whiskey.

“Yeah.” 

The bartender grinned, “You look like a strong one. There are some warm up rooms downstairs, the locker rooms are down there too.” He gestured towards a door on the far wall to the left , “Go through that door to sign up for the fight and they’ll show you where to go.”

“Thanks,” Zoro said, relieved that he finally knew where to go.

Throwing back the last of his drink he nodded to the bartender once more in thanks before heading towards the door. Inside there was a young woman sitting behind a service window with seafoam green hair looking all too innocent for such an establishment. 

“Uh, I’m here to fight.”

The girl beamed, “Excellent, Mr. Swordsman isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.”

“Great, I’ll sign you right up! You can head back to the club and someone will be out to call you before your match, or you can head down the hall to the locker rooms and private training rooms if you’d prefer somewhere more quiet!” 

Zoro nodded and head off towards the training rooms. He got a little turned around at some dead-end hallways that seemed to somehow go in circles but he eventually found a private room with some mats and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. He settled in and started doing some push ups, realizing only after a couple sets that he had no idea who else was fighting and who he might be up against. It didn’t really matter though, so long as they were strong enough to be a challenge.

After a few rounds at the punching bag and a bit of meditation, the green-haired girl came to his door and informed him that his fight would be up soon and that she could show him to locker room B.

Up above one fight was just ending and the announcer boomed over the backdrop of cheers and thrumming music.

“WE SURE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU TODAY!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as one fighter was carried out of the pit to the infirmary while the floor was quickly cleaned of blood and sprayed with disinfectant.

“WHO’S READY FOR ROUND TWO OF LAST WEEK’S BRAWL? EVERYONE’S FAVORITE JUST SHOWED UP AT OUR DOORS ITCHING TO KICK SOME ASS!”

From inside the locker rooms the two men prepared, oblivious to their circumstances. The concrete walls muffled the voice of the announcer and they sat in relative peace in opposite rooms. The managers of the club were rather neglectful when it came to informing it’s fighters of who their opponents would be. Unless it was a pre-arranged fight, the matches tended to be rather spontaneous. Sanji didn’t really mind as the organizers did a good job in pairing him up with the stronger competitors and they respected his two rules. He wouldn’t fight women and he wouldn’t fight Luffy. It wasn’t meant to be disrespectful towards women, and he hoped it didn’t come across that way, it just went against his principles to direct harm towards a lady. And he wouldn’t fight Luffy of course because they sparred enough in their free time and he had no intention of losing his undefeated reputation to that buffoon.

Out on the ring the announcer was riling up the crowd, “LADIES! MEN! NON-BINARY FRIENDS! PLACE YOUR BETS NOW AS THE FIGHT WILL BEGIN SHORTLY! IS YOUR MONEY ON THE UNDEFEATED BLACKLEG OR THE MYSTERIOUS SWORDLESS SWORDSMAN WHO APPEARED LAST WEEK??”

On queue, the two men stepped out into the pit. There was a moment of complete and utter awkwardness when they saw each other and the heaviness in the air was palpable. They had not even considered the possibility that the other would be here, and the fact that they were both hopelessly enamored and heedlessly frustrated with each other made the tension in the air feel as volatile as the trembling earth concealing an active volcano.

“DO I SENSE TENSION IN THE AIR?!”

Zoro was momentarily paralyzed by the sight of Sanji, all flustered and beautiful, and the thought flashed in his mind, “Kiss him back!” but was soon stifled by a more angry and urgent voice that screamed “Kick his ass!” and just like that, the stillness snapped and Zoro lunged towards his roommate with unadulterated rage.

Sanji saw the shift in the swordsman’s features and felt something in his stomach drop. Fuck. It was as bad as he feared, Zoro was angry. He was  _ furious _ . He was fucking raging over the fact that Sanji had kissed him and it just felt horrible. The rejection, it was nauseating and humiliating and heartbreaking. He could barely bring himself to fight back, to defend himself against Zoro’s onslaught. Still, he put up a fight, a decent one, they had both come here for a fight and he couldn’t back down now. Summoning his own frustration and channeling it into his body he powered himself up, whipping his legs out and diving into acrobatic attacks while dodging the punches thrown his way.

Zoro jumped back, his mind was clouded by anger and confusion. He needed clarity. A heel came flying towards him and he leaned back, clapping his hands up to snatch Sanji’s foot out of the air. Zoro’s eyes widened as Sanji’s foot neatly slipped out of the shoe and the chef reclaimed his leg, adjusting his momentum and seamlessly changing the trajectory of the kick to send it into Zoro’s chest. Still clutching the shoe in shock, Zoro stumbled backwards from the kick to the chest. He threw the leather shoe to the side and growled, ignoring the burning in his lungs from being winded from the blow.

Sanji casually toed off his other shoe, then rolled off his socks slowly in a way that should not have been as sexy as Zoro found it. Sanji had a dark grin, cynical and forlorn as he bounced on his toes, flexing his feet in a full range of motion, in much the way Carrot would, but the power difference between every rolling joint in the flexible feet was undeniable. Even Sanji’s little toes seemed to hold unbridled strength.

If Zoro had thought that Sanji’s kicks would be less devastating without his shoes, he was dead wrong. If anything, the increased traction of his standing foot, the liberated range of motion of every joint from ankle to toe, and the balance gained from the bare connection with the floor made Sanji’s kicks even faster and more vicious. 

Without his swords Zoro was beginning to feel like he might even be at a disadvantage. He needed to bring this fight in close range to avoid the long legs, but getting near Sanji with his feet swinging was all but impossible. They charged at each other and Zoro quickly learned that dodging the powerful kicks was much wiser than blocking them and taking the impact ricocheting off his bones. They backed away from each other, caught their breath, and went springing towards each other in an instant. 

Zoro didn’t really have a plan, but he knew he had to do something unexpected, counterintuitive. Sanji’s plan was to go in full-force and end this charade with a bang, packing all of his pent up energy into his muscles as he dove into a front handspring, launched from his palms, and sent one leg down first, the other following in a split, for a flying 360 degree axe kick that had the audience holding their breath. 

A rational human would have thrown themselves out of the attack range of Sanji’s kick, but Zoro, reckless as he was, took this as an opportunity, ducking down low and charging forward. Making no effort to dodge the rapidly descending leg, he lunged for Sanji’s center of balance diving right into the path of the kick to grab Sanji’s waist before the leg could fall, thigh catching him on the shoulder, leg folding at the knee sending a heel crashing into his back. 

The momentum sent them toppling, Sanji landing on his back with the swordsman on top of him, grunting in pain from the kick but not relenting his hold, and Sanji stared wide eyed as Zoro straddled Sanji’s hips roughly, one of Sanji’s legs sandwiched between their chests and draped over Zoro’s shoulder, their pelvises smashed together, with Zoro’s hands firmly gripping Sanji’s waist with bruising force. The position was overtly erotic and entirely compromising, but they were both too stunned and their fighting instincts too heightened to notice the screaming of their carnal desires. 

The entire audience had gone silent at the scene, never having seen Sanji go down like this before. Even the bombastic announcer was silent, until someone screamed incoherently and the audience erupted in a storm of cheers and boo’s. Zoro felt the overwhelming urge to scream with the rest of the crowd and the first words that came to mind sailed out of his mouth as he pulled back a fist aimed at Sanji’s face.

“WHO THE HELL IS YOUR FIANCE?!”

Sanji had already resigned himself to his fate the moment his back hit the floor. His heart hadn’t been in the fight from the beginning, but Zoro’s question made him blink and the words bounced around in his head uselessly. It wasn’t remotely close to the words he had been expecting to hear, and he simply stared back absently, unable to comprehend. Zoro’s face was the picture of agony as he sent his fist sailing towards Sanji’s face. Sanji didn’t flinch.

Zoro’s hand went crashing down and landed with a sickening crunch. There was a collective gasp from the audience, some viewers peeking out between hands that had shielded their eyes from seeing Zoro’s unrestrained fist make contact.

The slightest flicker of pain passed Zoro’s features as he stared, eyes locked with Sanji’s, knuckles bloody and grinding into the stone floor right beside Sanji’s head.

When the situation registered that Zoro had spared Sanji from the blow, the screams of the crowd resounded off the walls and ceiling in a cacophony. But at the bottom of the fighting pit all Sanji could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears and Zoro’s words still bouncing through his skull senselessly. The last thing his brain had registered was Zoro’s fist sailing towards his face and his mind had gone completely blank, shutting off as if his head truly had been pummelled. When the realization dawned on him that the strike never came, he turned his head slightly to see Zoro’s fist connected to the floor beside him, then turned to look back up at the man above him. Zoro’s eyes were dark and impassioned and… distraught?

The moments passed with Sanji’s pulse thundering in his ears as feeling in his body returned to him slowly. The numbness faded and he became physically aware of his position, Zoro’s body, straddling and pressed up against him, sweat dripping and looking down at him with a face that expressed both longing and loss. Waves of heat flooded into him, rising up his body as if he was on fire and he began to feel flustered until the words repeating in his head finally registered in his muddled brain and realization dawned on him like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Fiance?” Sanji breathed cluelessly.

A shouting figure came up to them and Sanji turned his head, still very aware of Zoro’s gaze that had not left him for a second. Sanji realized vaguely that the approaching figure was a referee shouting at him.

“Do you yield??”

Sanji nodded distractedly, head working overtime to process everything through the din, vaguely aware of an inordinate amount or screaming around him. Suddenly his head hurt as if he really had been hit by that devastating fist. 

He looked back up at the swordsman who was still staring at him, his expression unchanged, eyes wide and searching, and something in Sanji was so very close to breaking, giving in, pulling that face down to kiss away all the confusion and worry and uncertainty, rolling his hips upwards to grind into Zoro’s, but no, no, fuck no, that lack of self control was exactly what got him in this mess of a situation in the first place. That’s exactly why Zoro was mad at him right now. Wasn’t it?  

Sanji’s adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, realizing with terrible embarrassment that without his realizing it, his body had reacted to their position and a disobedient body part was pressing into Zoro’s groin, which happened to have it’s own little traitor pressing back. They both breathed heavily on top of each other for a moment before a flash of realization crossed Zoro’s face as he too became aware of his deceitful body. He finally pulled back, retracting his bloody hand, still locked in a painful fist, and lifted his body off of Sanji’s, allowing the sleek black clad leg on his shoulder to slide to the floor. 

“UN… UNBELIEVABLE!!!!!”

Zoro quickly stood and stormed towards the locker room. 

“WHAT DID WE JUST WITNESS?!? HISTORY!!! THE INFAMAOUS BLACKLEG’S FIRST LOSS!! AT THE HANDS OF THE MYSTERIOUS NEW FIGHTER, WHO LOST ONLY ONE WEEK AGO!!! THIS IS UNPRECEDENTED”

Sanji pushed himself up from his embarrassing place on the floor and quickly rose to his feet, forgetting his shoes and rushed after Zoro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N OKAY I THINK THERE'S SOME CONFUSION, the girl is Pudding, not Reiju! I'm gonna edit this chapter to clear that up, but for now, know that Reiju is Sanjis sister and left the voice mail. Pudding is the fiance. Not sure if that was confusing!. 
> 
> Wahoo cliffhanger? Guys the next chapter is WILD and you’re gonna love it so stay tuned, it’s mostly done so in theory it should be out soon ahahhhaaaa
> 
> If there are characters you want to see, or ideas/prompts/request, leave them in the comments or message me on tumblr @pandamega and I’ll see if I can include them!
> 
> As always, the comments/reviews keep me going! Thank you all so much for the support so far, I’m excited for where this fic is going! I’ll get around to replying to all the comments, I’ve read them and they make me smile like a whole darn fool.


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